Karakuri卍Burst
by ravenbynight
Summary: Based on the song Karakuri Burst. Rin the Red Rose works for Hatsune Inc., murdering in the night, while her mind fights savage insanity. Len works for Justice, or what appears to pass as justice in the corrupted world of Voca. They might have never met, had Len not been ordered to protect Kiyoteru, Rin's target...now everything will change. NOT RINLEN
1. Rin I

**RIN – I**

Of the night, I dreamed of red and flowers, flowers that bled and writhed with agony when I hit them; their dark blood pooled on ground made of pale yellow grasses that whispered and murmured anxiously in a stale wind. The grass was like a sea; it rippled and shifted, rose and fell, with every breath of air. With blood burning on my cheeks and the cold metal of my pistol freezing my hands, I stumbled through that ocean, struggling towards a farm house; the grasses clung to my legs, tried to hold me back, but I persisted, I refused to give into their will, and in the end I reached it, a house of rough wood and an interior of modest size and minimal decoration, the house of small-folk. I didn't notice much, nothing really, except the vase; a beautiful object, I think. A body of milky white skin, with streaks of red and gold winding around the soft curves, and flowers blooming around the lips and the base.

Then the vase was on the floor, shattered, and all red.

There was a boy screaming and crying, a boy with hair like molten red-gold and eyes made of the clear blue sky. He was younger them me. He looked like a girl. His face was all red.

He reached out, screaming.

Then I'd wake up, and the world was a lot like I'd dreamed it, smeared with red and pulsing with pain.

/

My room at Hatsune Inc. was rather spacious. It was a huge square, smooth and silver. The walls were made of metal, heated so it was comfortably warm to touch, and the floor was wrapped in a carpet soft as velvet and white as snow. My ridiculously large bed was located in the fair left corner, sat beside the changing wall – I called it that because when I ran my hand over it, the surface rippled like water and then all I needed to do was say the word and then I was walking through a forest, or swimming in the ocean, or dancing in a flock of fluttering snow flakes – and its sheets were as white and as soft as the carpet. Several pillows of white and grey sat side by side at the bed's head.

The right wall wasn't change wall, but it wasn't what it seemed, either. When I tapped my knuckles against the hard, warm surface, it let out a whine and jolted forward, slide inward, and revealed to me several rows of modern clothing – the clothing of the rich. Soft silks dyed with vivid colours, blended together in swirls or streaks or patches; dresses of frills and lace and more silk; skin-fitting jeans with butterflies and flowers creeping across the fabric in lines of thread; shirts so black they were darker then shadows; skirts interwoven with neon thread that shone like beads of stolen stars.

Then there was _my_clothes. My traditional, Japanese-themed clothes – kimonos of red and black and blue and white silks. My favourite was a kimono far too short to be considered decent, a breathtaking piece of material dyed blood-red and thinly lined with pale pink fur on the inside. The obi was large and heavy, dark brown and held in place by an extravagant bow and a delicate metal flower. Then there was my flower hair pin – again, the flower was red – and my bow, white and precious to me.

I did up my hair – shoulder-length and dark gold – and wriggled into my kimono and fetched my black pistol from my bedside table. I was almost ready. Just one more thing...

The bandage was thin, but wrapping and re-wrapping it around my head, over my ear and through my hair made it thicker. It was white, too, like the fluffy carpet, but this bandage was older and was lightly tinged in yellow, or maybe that was just as the shadows thrown by the golden locks I carefully combed over them, hiding them and the gaping black abyss that once held my right eye from view. But nothing could hide the jagged scar that curled across my nose and split down my cheek.

I observed myself in the cupboard's mirror for a moment longer, tucking away loose strands and adjusting my obi and fiddling with my hair clip. Then I picked up the pistol and held it against my cheek and lets its curious icy warmth sweep through me, a warmth I could trust, I warmth I could fight with.

_Then _I was ready for the day.

_I __wonder __what __the __mission __will __be __today._

The rest of Hatsune Inc. was the same as my room – smooth, white, and high on technology. While I was dripping with fierce red, the others were white on white. The people who drifted past me wore clothes of white, plastic-thread material. Their white shoes clapped hollowly off the smooth metals floors. Their white hair sat stiff on their shoulders. They didn't dare meet my gaze as I marched past, all red and golden and bright. They were frightened of me. I was one of _them_, the ones they could never touch, the ones who wore colours and carried weapons openly, a crime punishable by death if it was them yielding the pistol.

The Master's room was guarded by two huge men clad in black. They were all muscle; arms thick as tree trunks and bulging beneath the skin-tight clothing, gnarled noses and beady eyes. I knew instantly they were clones. They were worth even less then the feeble whites and used solely for physical labour, like planting and harvesting fields of wheat and guarding the head of Hatsune Inc.

They knew who I was because of my colours and stepped aside. Behind them was nothing but a white wall, but I knew better. I brushed my knuckles against the surface – smooth and unnervingly soft – and it rippled like water and melted away, sucked up by the ground, and revealed to me a small room of wood and candle light. It was all an illusion, though, like my forest walks or ocean swims. One switch of a button, and the floor beneath my feet would no longer be creaking wooden planks, but silent silver metal.

"Milady." The clone on my left boomed out. A huge voice, befitting of his huge build. "Red Rose as arrived."

"Enter, darling red," My master purred and I strolled inside. Instantly, the wall burst from the ground and solidified behind me. To the clones, the wall would be flat and white; to me, it looked like wood painted a creamy colour, turned honey-gold by the candles. They were wax candles, thick and stunted, and there were many, resting upon book shelves and wooden desks and upturned boxes. The room was very small; my master's desk was only a few meters away, and she too was there, seated in a revolving chair that didn't suit the primitive setting.

She was wearing white, too, but her turquoise tie and high heels screamed out her high status. She wore a short, tight-fitting skirt of dark black, and a white shirt and white doctors coat, so long it would've dragged behind her as she walked. Her legs were gripped by fish-net stockings and her impossibly long turquoise hair was strung back by a square-shaped hair pin, parting and flowing down her back in separate spears of colour. Her glasses were rectangular and narrow and the frame was tainted lightly with turquoise.

Lady Hatsune Miku, director and founder of the Hatsune Inc., looked away from her paperwork when I entered and smiled her sickly sweet smile.

"Hello, little dove." She purred. She spun around to face me and slid her fingers together and rested them on her lap. "Its lovely to see you. Its been to long."

"Its been three days."

"Far too long, my sweet. Come to me. Come let me see you."

I did as commanded, as a trained dove does. I stood before her and allowed her hands to grope my body; flutter across my curves, squeeze my breasts, massage my thighs. My only resistance was when she made to take my pistol from me, and for a moment my fingers were unyielding; my pistol was my life, my offense and defense, my only friend. But then those beautiful blue-green eyes found mine and I released my grip and bit down on my tongue as her fingers wormed it from my grasp.

She sat it on the table.

Her hands left my body, then, and went into her coats many pockets, searching. They emerged with a syringe filled with a cloudy, purple-red liquid and the sight of it sent my heart hammering.

"Your arm," She said, but I'd already held it forward and you could see the holes and scars from the past, where she'd plunged the needle's point into my skin and flooded my veins with the curious liquid. My medicine.

It kept me sane, that stuff did. Without it, for as long as I could remember, I'd been mentally unstable, screaming and clawing at my skin, trying to dig out my eyes, tearing at my hair, sobbing uncontrollably. Vaguely, I could recall spiders moving beneath my skin, stabbing and biting me with fangs, and daggers ripping through my flesh. Or so it had felt. I knew none of that had truly happened, but without the liquid my mind spiralled out of control.

Too much of it, though, could kill me, so master held onto it. She measured the dosage carefully before splitting my skin and my veins and infected it with the medicine.

When she saw my eagerness, some amusement touched her smile.(She smiled whether she was amused or not. It was an expression of happiness, disgust and subtle threat). She pressed the needle through my skin, somewhere in my wrist, and pushed the liquid into me. The pain was large, but it was nothing compared to the sweet relief that washed through me once the medicine was inside. All my anxieties and terrors and angers vanished when it met my bloodstream. It made me sigh aloud.

"Enjoying yourself?" She chuckled.

"Yes..." I felt no shame in admitting it. "Thank you, master."

"You needn't be," She said that, but if I didn't thank her she'd hit me. "All I want is to keep you healthy, my dear. Now," She turned back to the table and lifted a sheet of paper from the pile. She handed me the paper.

A man in his mid-thirties stared back at me. He was rather youthful looking and bore a sweet expression. His eyes were chocolate brown and warm and framed in oval glasses. His hair was the same colour, short and mildly messy in a way that was almost cute. The picture only showed the tops of his shoulders and his face but you could see a blue tie fastened around his neck and the classy black suit of a business man. Beside the picture was lines of information that I could not read. It was all written in Crytonian, a tongue which I could neither speak nor read, save for a few stray characters. I recognised the word for 'mountain', but that was it.

"The man you see there is Hiyama Kiyoteru," Master informed me.(Yama was the word I could read, the Crytonian word for 'mountain'. Weird.) "He's thirty-five years old, reasonably healthy though his eye sight as been weak since birth. His parents died when he was young, so he was raised by his grandfather. He died recently. He has a young foster daughter named Kaai Yuki. She's loosely related to him through some great-great grandmother no-one knew existed. Her father died before she was born, and her mother during childbirth, so Hiyama has been looking after her since she was a baby."

I was silent as she spoke.

"Hiyama is a teacher at her elementary school, she a top student in his class." She was holding a sheet of paper, I saw. When she shifted her weight, I caught a glance of a round face and huge brown eyes and soft brown hair strung back in pony-tails. The face of an innocent little girl. I pitied her. "They're very close."

"Which one do you want me to kill?" I asked bluntly, for that was my job. I was the Red Rose, the flower that bled with her enemies, that screamed with laughter as they died, the raven of death wrapped in red silk. I was the one they all feared, even the other colours, with their guns and their swords. I was the one Justice despised, the one the government secretly admired, just as they secretly worshipped and obeyed Lady Hatsune Miku. I'd been killing since I was fourteen and, soon, I would turn twenty. Six solid years of slaughter. Quite the record.

She laughed.

"Why must you be so blunt, little dove? I thought you would enjoy learning about your targets."

"I don't care about his past, master. He sounds boring anyway."

"Very well, have it your way. Hiyama Kiyoteru isn't just a teacher. A few years back, he had the misfortune of being involved in some dark, mafia-related incidents." She glanced down at Kaai Yuki. "In order to protect his precious daughter, he ran to me. You remember what I told you, little dove? In this word, there are thee major powers – there is the wrenched Justice, a cult, basically, though no-one outside seems to understand that; the English mafia from across the Wandering Sea and us, Hatsune Industries, masters of technology and the creation of advanced weaponry. The government is helpless in these matters...though they have little power, anyway, those puppet politicians. Who else was he to run to? The Justice would've killed him, the English the same. I was his only option.

"He borrowed money from me in order to pay off the mafia and they let him be. They may be ruthless savages, but they keep their word, I'll give them that. They haven't touched him since. But he failed to take my impatience into account. I warned him if he didn't pay me back, I'd _make _him pay. He didn't believe me. We had a private meeting, so I could better explain his situation. And let's just say..." Her pale lips twisted into a grimace. "...he said the wrong thing. Now he _must _pay."

"You want me to kill his daughter." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

She nodded. "Yes. Kaai Yuki is his price. But she isn't his daughter, just his look-alike niece."

"They're of middle class, right?"

"Barely. Their technology is old. They drive cars with wheels, little dove." I'd never even heard of such a thing. "They live on the edge of the Second Wing, right against the Wall." Hatsune Inc. was at the front of the First Wing. She was royalty amongst royalty. "An image of their house is on the bottom of Kaai Yuki's sheet." She handed it to me and I took it. That damnable innocent face dared back at me, a sweet little smile on her lips. She was so young...oh well. "Your mission is to assassinate her and be back in time for supper."

I nodded. "I understand."

She tapped my nose with a long slender finger; her finger nails were long, too, and sharp, like claws, painted turquoise. Just like the rest of her. "Good little dove."

I said nothing. I'd learned it was better to just let her talk She enjoyed my attitude and my sarcasm, but only when it was wanted, otherwise I was just another annoying experiment she had to put up with.

...Yeah. My life is mildly depressing, aye?

Good thing I enjoy it.

I left.

/

In the city of Voca, there was four major sections: First Wing, Second Wing, Third Wing and Outer Wing. Each was separated by a massive wall of solid metal of different sorts; the First Wing's wall was one of gold, with silver and bronze strips merging together to create vast mosaics of metal. It was a stunning sight to behold; goddesses with white wings spread open in flight, hands upraised towards God and glorious golden hair spilling down their backs in waves and ringlets; men with horns jutting from their temples and the lower body of a house and spears held in hand; then more modern pictures, detailing building of glistening metals and sleek silver hovercrafts and the bloody World War V.

Within the First Wing, life was a luxury, made soft and easy with silks and laces and mind boggling technology. The further out from the center you traveled, however, the harder life became, until you reached the Wall and passed over into the Second Wing. Their technology was noticeably dated, their wall no where near as extravagant or otherworldly. It was one made entirely of copper and steel. Steel letting coated the wall, written with a swift, curvy hand to detail the many laws of Voca. There were some images, a god here or there, a tranquil scene of vines and trees and meadows, but they were badly done for the most part and faded from time.

I was dropped off at Hiyama Kiyoteru's house in the dead of night by my master's personal hovercraft. It was cloaked in a shield of invisibility and was silent as the grave, so the only sounds was the soft murmuring of leaves, the far-off clamour of some children playing and one of those land-cars back firing, much to the owner's apparent horror.

I leapt from the craft and landed noiselessly in Hiyama's garden. It wasn't very large, but it was pretty, I'll give him that. I knew nothing of flowers, but I recognised the roses – they were famous throughout the First Wing, and it was my code name, for god's sake – some red, others white, a few sunny yellow. They all looked dull and dangerous in the watery, half-hearted light of night.

I looked up at Hiyama's house.

It was very small, a brick-structure, square in shape and no larger then my room, really. The roof was tiled, though I couldn't tell the colour without proper light. There was two windows framed in white wood; the glass was foggy and my vision was marred by the tattered, cream-coloured curtains. There was a tiny deck of wood out the front, and it was that I climbed up onto. I glanced briefly over my shoulder and though I couldn't see it, I knew the craft was zooming away, fast as lightning, shooting over houses and people and land-cars without ever being seen.

It reminded me of myself, somehow.

The door was easy to open. The technology was bad and as a result the security was too. The door was one of rough brown wood, the type with circles of pale browns and muddy-yellows, and the lock was one for a key but seemed to accept the sharp point of my hair pin just as gladly. It let out a soft _click _of sound when it opened, but apart from that the world was quite.

Inside, it was dark, as one might expect. The walls and floors all looked grey or black, so I couldn't tell the colouring. The door opened up into a narrow hall way that led off into a larger room that seemed to be a mixture of the kitchen and the living room, while, to my left, it jeered off down another hall. I crept down it as quietly as humanly possible and found it ended quite abruptly, but there'd been just enough time to squeeze in another room.

One room. It was possible Hiyama Kiyoteru was in there as well, tossing and turning in his sleep with little Kaai Yuki snuggled up beside him. I imagined her smiling softly as she slept, her little chest rising and falling, a rabbit doll hanging loosely from the hook of her elbow. She wore a pink dress and her hair was still done up in pony-tails...

_Stop it_, I told myself sternly. Getting all guilty wasn't going to help me none. I'd forget about it all anyway, once I'd pulled the trigger and the bullet was flying.

Gently, I twisted the handle – gently, but quickly, too, because I'd learned from experience that if you moved it slowly, it squeaked and whined. It was cool and felt like plastic. The door opened with a faint squeak of protest, but was otherwise quite, and I found myself standing in a small room bathed in shadows...save for a single candle burning on a bed-side table. The bed was big enough for a grown man, so Kaai Yuki looked even smaller as she slept, warm yellow-orange light causing her flushed cheeks to glow eerily.

She didn't look like she had in my mind. She wasn't smiling. Her head tilted to one side and her mouth slightly parted. Her hair was loose and fell about her shoulders in hazel tangles made dark orange by the firelight. She wore a blue shirt too large for a little body, or maybe it was a dress, but I couldn't tell because the white sheets were pulled right up to her shoulders. She held onto a penguin doll rather then a rabbit. Its huge black eyes seemed to stare at me, and then at the gun strapped to my thigh.

I walked forward.

I pulled out my gun.

I pointed it at her head.

And the stupid girl woke up.

It happened so quickly I didn't have time to pull the trigger, and it was only later I realised she hadn't been asleep at all. She'd been waiting for her father to come home and had stayed up for him. She'd heard the door creak open and thought she'd surprise him when he came into the room.

So when she jolted up, she squealed "Daddy!" and grinned a huge bright grin...and then she realised I wasn't her father, that she didn't even know me, and she'd almost leapt into the barrel of a shot gun.

She cringed away. Fear and confusion swept across her features. For some stupid reason, she grabbed her penguin and hugged him to her chest, as though he could protect her from my life-snatching bullets.

"You're not my daddy," She whispered shakily. Pointing out the obvious.

"No, I'm not." Why was I playing along with her? I should've shot her the second she moved.

"W-why are you here?" She asked. Her voice was high-pitched and tiny with fear. "Where's my daddy? What did you do to daddy?" Her voice grew a little stronger, though. More confident as fear for her father overcame her fear for herself. It shocked me, sometimes. How brave children were.

"I haven't touched her daddy." I promised, and that seemed to please her because her expression softened a little. Stupid, stupid girl.

She glanced at the gun. Black, but red here and there because of the flame. She shrunk away, remembering her own terror. She said nothing.

"I'm really sorry, Yuki." I said.

Still, she said nothing.

"I have to do this. I've been ordered to. I don't have a choice."

Silence.

Stupid silence.

There's been too much of it tonight.

If only the door had banged open and the sound had screamed through the house. Kaai Yuki would've known I wasn't her father, then. She might've hid. Someone might've heard and come to her aid. But no, everything had to be so bloody quite.

Now she was going to die.

She was crying – more silence, though. She didn't even sniff or whimper. In her head, she was probably past blubbering and crying, though the tears had appeared only a few moments ago. She was clutching her penguin so desperately her knuckles shone white. She was trembling.

"Yuki, close your eyes." I said.

She did.

I pressed the cold muzzle against her forehead.

I pulled the trigger, and the silence exploded.

* * *

**First fic, so please be nice.**

**This is based on the song Karakuri Burst, sung by Kagamine Rin/Len. The song didn't say much about the world they lived in other then it was corrupted, so I improvised. This made-up world is set in the future, sometime after World War Five, where humans are divided through technology and their worth is judged through wealth and status. Yeah..I know there's probably a thousand versions of this, but please put up with me xD  
**

**I apologize for any mistakes. I read through it a couple of times, but I probably missed something.  
**

**I will love you forever if you review. Seriously.  
**

**- raven_by_night  
**

**[ EDIT ] Fixed up all the slanted writing.  
**


	2. Len I

**LEN - I**

For me, night and day were the same. They were both a struggle, only during the day it was real and restricted, while when I slept the hardships my sleeping mind conjured were massive and dramatic and impossible. I ran through grasses like razor blades and climbed mountains that burned my fingers and left them blackened and crumbling to ash. I stared at a sky so bright it boiled my eyes and swam in water so cold my skin turned to ice. Then there was the farm house, the damn farm house, with the stray grass that clung to my legs and tried to pull me back, but I was foolish and stubborn and I struggled till I made it. There was too much red there in that farmhouse. It was everywhere, on the walls and the floor and the ceiling and the windows and it was running down my face, too, hot and thick and it _burned_me like fire.

There was a girl, too, a girl with pale gold hair and a bow of white. She was strangely calm till her eye was ripped out and then she was screaming and crying too. She was younger then me. She was so tiny.

I reached out, screaming.

Then I'd wake up, and endure.

\\\

On the streets of Third Wing, we of Justice are called 'Debt Collectors'.

Its a name I'm quite familiar with, one I've heard everyday for near six years, but the words still burn in my throat when I say them aloud. To First and Second Wing, we're picture-perfect soldiers, ruthlessly disciplined and hard as stone and masters in the art of swordsmanship, but beyond that great copper wall we're nothing but bullies; the government drops money in desperate hands, then we're sent to collect with swords and guns and fire and nothing short of hell freezing over could save you once Commander Kaito's decision was made.

That's what we were doing now, me and Lord Gakupo and Yuuma. It was Yuuma's first mission, so he was understandably nervous and it showed on his features; his pale pink brows knitted together in concentration; white lips pressed together to form one hard, straight line; beads of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled steadily down the left side of his face, sparkling wetly. He wore a uniform of dark blue that looked almost black in the half-hearted moonlight, but you could still see the faint purple hue of his tie and the silvery shine of his buttons, all marking him as a member of Justice – but not a senior member, like Commander Kaito or Lord Gakupo or Lady Meiko. He was of my rank, but soon I'd be higher them him. Soon I'd wear black and red and gloves and carry a black-bladed sword.

But that isn't important at the moment.

What was important was that we were slinking down a near abandoned street under the cover of darkness. Lord Gakupo, as a senior member, wore the black uniform of a red tie, white under-shirt, and inky coat that split into there separate sections of material. His deep violet hair was unbound tonight and cascaded down his back in a waterfall of impossibly long, dark purple locks; so long was his hair it just fell short of brushing against the concrete and whispered audibly when he moved. At least, I could hear that, but my ears had been trained to be sensitive. I wasn't so sure about Yuuma. He was looking pretty pale now.

The street, as I said before, was near abandoned. Empty houses of wood and brick stood stark and lonely to either side, all small and dusty and uncared for. Most were crumbling, roofs caved in or getting close to it, others were fenced off with thick red neon tape that gave off an eerie scarlet sheen, and others just stood there, doors swinging on their hinges, creaking softly in the wind. Within all, darkness lived.

Our destination was at the end of the street. One of the few houses still inhabited, but not for long. It was one of wooden walls and a tiled roof, with a mound of bricks and timber piled up along the western wall. It was tiny and square as most houses in Third Wing were; the door would've been white once, but the years had worn the colour down to a grey-brown, and the garden might've been neat and tidy and perhaps pleasant to view a few decades back, but now it was just a tangle of vines and grass and flowers.

Yuuma's pale pink eyes widened at the sight of the miniature jungle and I could tell what he was thinking: snakes. They run wild through these poorer sections of Third Wing and most were deadly poisonous and Yuuma had no desire to die from something as embarrassing as a snake bite. His fear wasn't entirely groundless.

Still, Lord Gakupo sneered at him with distaste.

"Afraid of some little lizards, are you?" He spat. Yuuma's cheeks reddened and he shook his head, but the damage was done. "Stop shaking your head, fool. I've known from the moment Luka brought your sorry butt to Justice that you were a coward. I told her as much, told her I should've cut your throat, but the damn woman wouldn't listen." He stepped forward and waved a gloved finger in Yuuma's face. "You'd better watch yourself. I _hate _cowards. I'll stick a sword in your back if you try to run."

Yuuma paled. His fear was easy to see.

I didn't like snakes either, but I wasn't so foolish as to show my anxiety – which was small anyway. As awful as snakes were, the chance of running into one was low and their fangs couldn't penetrate our uniforms. I wondered if Yuuma knew that, and figured he didn't. Poor guy. I offered him a small smile meant to be reassuring, but he seemed to take it as a slight and glared at me.

I looked away and sighed.

"Come on," Lord Gakupo grunted. He drew his sword with a faint silvery hiss and sliced his way through the overgrown garden, regardless of the snakes and spiders that seemed to frighten Yuuma so. I followed without hesitation, with the twigs and the grass crunching and cracking beneath my heavy boots, but Yuuma lingered behind for a moment, all white faced and wide-eyed. I beckoned him forward with my hand, trying to be encouraging, but, once again, he took it as a slight. Probably because he was a good five years older then me and fresh from the apprentice ranks, while I'd been a member for almost three years now. Glaring coldly, he stamped through the tattered remains of the garden and shouldered his way passed me.

I really should've known better.

At the house, Gakupo didn't bother knocking. He kicked in the door with the fierceness of a lion and smirked wickedly at the screams and shrieks that sounded in reply. He was through the door and in the house in seconds, with Yuuma following hastily, but I stood a moment, just listening to the screams. Terrified screams. Screams that knew what was coming. _This __is __wrong_. But I swallowed my shame and followed anyway.

The house was even smaller on the inside. The dark grey parlour of the walls made the narrow hall way even narrower. The living room was square, too, and grey and pathetically tiny, but not as pathetic as the poor family who stood huddled against the wall. There was three there in total, an older man, probably in his fifties or so, with white, wiry hair and sagging cheeks and brown eyes bright with fear; and behind him were children, a girl about sixteen or so with long chocolate hair and chocolate eyes, and a younger boy who clung to her for dear life. His hair was white as snow, his skin deathly pale and his eyes miss-matched; one a blazing emerald green, the other a puddle of glimmering ocean blue, touched with flecks of gold.

_This __is __wrong._

I stood beside Yuuma and put a hand on my sword.

It helped to look intimidating.

"I won't waste your time, Utatane." Lord Gakupo said with just a hint of a grin. "You know why we're here. Give us what you owe the government and we'll be on our way."

Utatane was the older man, it seemed, because he blubbered out, "I-I don't have i-it as o-of yet. P-please b-be patient -"

"We've been patient for two years, Utatane-san." Lord Gakupo replied smoothly. The picture of calmness. The picture of cruelty.

More helpless blubbering. "B-but...p-please, more time -"

Lord Gakupo drew his sword and Utatane stumbled backwards and, feebly, stretched out his hands so as to protect the children. The boy's miss-matched eyes filled with tears and his sister began to tremble, but her face was immoveable as stone. A brave girl.

Lord Gakupo's sword moved like lightning and the man's chest exploded in a mountain of red. The girl screamed and the boy stared, soundless, as their father crumbled, all his strength gone and howling with agony, his life blood painting the air scarlet. He crashed against the floor and lay there dying, but Lord Gakupo stabbed him through the throat and jerked his blade to one side, serving his wind pipe. Utatane lay there, gasping and spluttering and bleeding, for a minute or two, and then his eyes rolled back into his skull and he was dead.

Now the girl's strength – her bravery – deserted her. Still clutching her brother, she tried to flee with tears blurring her vision and strangled whimpers bursting from her throat, but Yuuma was to her left and Gakupo was in front of her and I was to her right, all the roads cut off. She saw something in my eyes, I think, and looked at me despairingly, desperately. _Help __me_. I stood stock stick until she took a step forward and, remembering my duty, I gripped my sword's hilt and pulled it out just half an inch, but it was enough to destroy whatever trust she'd put in me and she stumbled away.

Gakupo tapped Utatane body with the tip of his boot. He looked disgusted, probably by the man's terrified, pain-filled expression. "Hn." He grunted. Then he turned to the children.

The boy's eyes flickered to my face. Apparently he hadn't given up hope in me, and that struck harder then any sword.

I spoke.

"Wait, Lord Gakupo -"

"What?" He snapped, turning his sharp purple gaze onto me.

"Must you kill the children?" I asked carefully. One slip and his sword would be opening my throat, not there's. "They had nothing to do with this."

He spat. "They're Third Wing rats and no-one gives a damn about them. To us, they're just more worthless mouths to feed."

"But they're _children_," I insisted, but I knew it was hopeless.

"A whore and a brat." He said bluntly. "and they won't be children forever. You think I was born all grown up like this? Nah, you start out cute, Len, then you grow up and you become a killer. That's what happens to people in this part of Third Wing. The girls become whores and crap out babes and the boys grow into killers."

I couldn't say anything to that. All my arguments came down to one fact – **_they're __children._**

When he saw I had nothing to say, he smiled that terrible smile of his and turned back to them, and the poor boy whimpered and buried his face in his sister's skirts and she tightened her grip on his little shoulders. Her will had returned, it seemed, while I pleaded for their lives.

"N-n-not him. Please, don't kill him!" She cried, her voice shaking terribly, but there was conviction there. Her outcry gave me an idea.

Lord Gakupo was about to snort and snarl something foul, but I spoke before he could utter a single profanity. "Spare the boy, Lord Gakupo," I begged. Lord Gakupo rounded on me, but his silence was encouraging, so I continued. "The girl is worthless, but the boy will grow and if he's destined to grow into a killer as you believe, then why not put his skill to good use?"

"You will have him join us?" Lord Gakupo was cruel, blood-thirsty and careless, but he wasn't a fool.

I nodded in confirmation. "We are short of men. Lord Commander Kaito as said so himself. Why waste one, when he can acquire him for free?"

"I see you point," Lord Gakupo admitted grudgingly. "but who will train him? All the other seniors already have apprentices -"

"I will," I interrupted, foolishly. You don't interrupt Lord Gakupo. "I'll be made a senior in a day's time. I'll be his mentor."

Lord Gakupo watched me. His eyes were like deep violet pools, going on and on and on forever, and harsh and fierce and terrible, but I held his gaze steadily, unyieldingly. If I could save the boy's life, then nothing was going to stop me. I'd seen too many children put to the sword for the simple crime of being poor. All the while, I could feel the girl's chocolate eyes watching, wide and tear-streaked, but intent; and, faintly, the boy sniffing, swallowing sobs and whimpers of fear and grief and confusion.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Lord Gakupo nodded.

"Very well," He snarled, his voice sharp as a blade. It failed to draw blood, though, because he'd _agreed _and that meant the boy would live. That was all that mattered. The poor little boy would live.

I looked at the children and saw the girl's whole body had relaxed and loosened. Her hands hung freely about the boy's shoulders, but the boy himself still looked frightened, skin pale and eyes huge. They shifted from his sister's bitter-sweet expression to my face to Gakupo's sword and back again, never once resting on the lifeless, bloody corpse that was his father. Perhaps he was unwilling to accept reality. I didn't blame him.

Lord Gakupo turned back to the girl and his arm flashed forward, but I saw what he was about to do and reacted faster. My hand grasped the boy's shoulder and wrenched him from his sister's powerless grasp. I saw the sister smile at me, a soft, sad smile of acceptance and perhaps a little gratitude, but then I blinked and her face was nothing but red. I hugged the boy to my chest before the blow landed, but he still heard the sickening sound of metal slicing through the flesh, the crunch of splitting bone and cartilage and heard the resounding _crash_ as his sister's body collapsed.

For a moment, he fought my grasp weakly, pushing at my chest and thrashing, but I put one hand on his hand and hugged his shoulders with the other and he quickly gave in. Trembling, he leaned against me and cried quietly.

Lord Gakupo turned away from me and marched from the house. He was already fetching the neon tape from his pockets. The package was no bigger then the head of a pin, but it glowed bright as the sun and all you needed to do was squeeze it lightly and it burst into thick ropes of gleaming red tape.

I looked up and saw Yuuma's huge pink eyes were on me.

"He could've _killed _you," He whispered.

I glared. For some reason, Yuuma was irritating me.

"What of it, coward?" I snapped.

He cringed away, then fled after our commanding officer.

I stood with the boy for some time, letting him cry, as Lord Gakupo and horse-head Yuuma unrolled the tape and curled it around the house, like some massive, oozing wound. It was a marker to all that walked by: _These __people __were __judged, __and __justice __was __served_. Or so the government and Lord Commander Kaito claimed, but I knew the Commander didn't believe a word that spilled from his lips and the government was all Hatsune Industries anyway. Politicians had no power, other then being a tourist attraction. The true leader of the country was Hatsune Miku and her demons and we all knew it.

Everyone expect the people who suffered, I supposed.

"Hey," I said softly. I could hear Lord Gakupo barking at Yuuma to straighten the tape. It wouldn't be long before I was called out. "Hey," I said again, louder this time but just as gently, and, after a moment two huge blue-green eyes turned up to face me. I gently pried him away from me and knelt down on my knees, so we were at eye level. I held his hands. "We have to go now and you can't cry anymore. Can you do that for me? Just for a couple of hours?"

The boy sniffed and nodded.

I smiled gently. "Thanks. I'm Len. What's your name?"

"P-Piko," he squeaked out. "U-Utatane Piko."

I squeezed his hand. "I'll protect you from now on, okay Piko?"

"O-okay."

"Good. Now, let's go."

I was going to stand, but then Piko opened his mouth; and he closed it again and averted his eyes and sniffed softly. I squeezed his hand. He looked at me.

"What is it?" I asked calmly.

He faltered, and his voice was feeble and shook. "U-um...y-your face..." More faltering, stumbling over his words, but I knew what he meant. The jagged scar that curled over the bridge of my nose and near split my cheek was a frightening sight to behold and I didn't blame him for his reaction. It was far from unique.

"A wound," I told him. "from when I was little. Older then you, I think, but around there."

He seemed surprised that I'd answered him at all, the way he blinked and stared and then nodded shakily.

I stood and made to let go of his hand – so tiny – but he held onto my fingers, so I left my hand where it was. We walked from the house and out into the night, leaving the bodies to rot in the darkness. Piko glanced over his shoulder once, but he looked away quick as lightning and never looked back again.

Yuuma didn't look at me. Lord Gakupo glared at me, but I offered him nothing more then a blank stare in return. That only seemed to irritate him. It always had, my distant and cold and determined personality.

"I phoned Kaito," Lord Gakupo told me coldly. "He'll be sending a hovercraft to pick us up shortly."

I nodded curtly and said nothing.

That's how it went for the twenty minutes or so, us all standing in tense silence, Piko choking back tears, Yuuma fidgeting nervously and me staring off into space. I wanted to comfort Piko some way, but I figured his grief was too raw and his fear too great for any proper healing to commence, so I just held him and let him sniffle and squeak into my uniform. The hovercraft arrived with a soft hum and then the cloak dropped and it was right there in front of us, a mere two meters away. It was a relatively large hovercraft of silvery metals painted over black and red, the colours of Justice in Voca. Lord Gakupo entered the craft first, just as a faint drizzle of rain fell from the heavens and cooled my heated cheeks. I closed my eye and listened to the soft pitter patter till Piko tugged timidly at my sleeve. Then I strode to the craft and lifted him up inside because he was too short and weak to get himself in there alone. He was so tiny and delicate I was afraid I might break him.

The trip back passed much the same. Piko eventually fell asleep in my lap, breathing softly, coxed into slumber by the gentle humming of the craft and my fingers rhythmically stroking his arm. When we arrived, I carried the small boy in my arms and leapt from the hovercraft, landing lightly on my feet. We were in the storage bay where a row of black-red hovercrafts sat, silent as death and dark as night. Outside, rain poured from the sky, thunder roared and lightning flashed, but Piko still slept on in my arms. I was grateful for that. He seemed the sort of child to be frightened of storms.

\\\

Piko slept in my room. It wasn't an overly large space, but it was generous. The floors were smooth polished wood that glowed dully in the watery, yellow light of the candles; the door was Japanese themed, made of thin wooden beams strung together to create a frame and thin white paper re-enforced with steel thread too small for the naked eye to see. My bed was a futon of dark green mattress and thick brown sheets that toasted me in summer and winter both. Aside from that, my room was sparsely decorated, my clothes folded away out of sight and my precious few personal possessions hidden away in a broken board where I hoped known would find them.

Piko murmured softly as I gently lowered him into my futon and pulled the thick blankets up to his chin. He snuggled into the warm softness gladly, but as I pulled away I felt a slight tug and saw he was still gripping my fingers. I took a moment to examine his. They truly were tiny; tiny and bony and easily broken. The hands of a weak little child and I was all he had to cling to. The thought made me want to weep, but I smiled instead.

I strolled outside, slid the door shut behind me. It made less then a whisper of sound. I sat down and leaned against the wood – cream on the inside and black on the out – and listened to the rain. It was vicious and unforgiving and would've drenched me in less then a second, but I found the wet roar strangely comforting, as I always did. The crashing thunder, too, and even the heart-stopping bolts of lightning that made to crack the black-blue sky in half but never quite managed. I closed my eye, but no sooner had I done so did I hear the faint sound of frantic breathing, barely audible above the hammering rain.

I opened my eyes and looked up and saw Yuuma scurrying towards me.

He leaned against his knees when he reached me, panting heavily and rain water streaming off his shoulders and running down his face like tears. I stood and steadied him when it seemed he was swaying to one side.

"Yuuma? What -"

"R-Red Rose," He spluttered and that's all I needed to know.

I left him in my room with the threat of death hanging over his head if he dared let anything happen to Piko. I took my sword – one of average length and a glimmering silver blade and black hilt – and _ran_. I ran and I ran and I ran, regardless of the startled curses or shocked glances; through the complex I raced, through the training grounds, once a flat field of grass and dust but now a bog of mud and dead leaves; straight through the members compartments; and then into the Black Sword Tower, where the seniors lived and trained and plotted. It was a huge, ominous structure of black brick and stone; it went straight up like a blade striking the sky.

There were no guards. The seniors could protect themselves.

Inside, I was greeted by the familiar sight of my master and mentor, Lord Commander Kaito. He was taller then me by about a head or so. His hair was smooth and blue as the ocean and never tidy but never quite messy, either. His blue eyes, normally twinkling with merriment, were hard as stone and lined with worry, but when he saw me I like to think some of that concern eased, if only slightly.

"Len," he said. I walked up to him and struggled to control the hammering of my heart. All that frantic running had left me breathless and soaked to the bone.

"How many?" It was the obvious question.

"Seven so far." He replied calmly. "Did Yuuma return with you?"

"No." I wondered how to proceed with this..."I needed him to look after something for me."

Suspicion flickered in his blue eyes, but there were more pressing matters then a harmless white lie so he let the issue slid. "I see. No matter. Come."

I did.

The hallway was scarcely lit at all – I could barely see my own hand, let alone my mentor. The world was black on black, and Lord Kaito was just another phantom drifting in the dark. Then we reached the staircase and started up, up and up and up and up, until suddenly Lord Kaito stopped and pulled at the wall, or what appeared to be the wall to me. It shivered and then jolted inwards and revealed to us a room of neon lighting that stabbed at my eyes. Lord Kaito strolled inside and I followed him uncertainly.

Inside, the seniors stood around a table. It was a large table, ringed in silvery metal, and standing tall and proud on the table's surface was a hologram of Voca, zoomed out so the walls looked like small rings and the city itself was just a patch work of houses, growing darker and noticeably run-down as you travelled from the centre.

Lady Meiko stood beside the table, frowning hard, with her hands clasping the metallic frame. Her short brown hair was unbrushed and her bloody red eyes narrowed in concentration. Lord Gakupo stood near by, smiling his twisted smile and watching me with the fiery malice I had gotten used to. Lady Luka sat in a chair a few meters away, her cherry blossom pink hair unbound and flowing down her back in silky locks, but she lurched to her feet upon our arrival and smiled in relief.

"Len, you're soaked to the bone." She said, her tone concerned. Her gloved fingers brushed my forehead, wet with rain water. "You'll catch a cold."

I didn't know what to say. Lady Luka's kindness has always left me speechless. You'd think I'd be used to it after six years.

"I-I'm alright." I assured her, though I _was _freezing.

"Len, get over here." Lady Meiko wasn't known for her patience. "Look, Red Rose is here," she tapped the hologram and it zoomed inward at a pace that left me dazzled. In seconds we were peering down on the Second Wing like birds flying over head, and then at a smaller section pressed right up against the copper wall. A red ring framed it, pulsing and glowing. "She's killed seven so far. We sent some men in earlier, but that was foolish." She glared at Lord Gakupo as she said that. "Three have died already and the remaining five are hard pressed. We need to -"

"Red Rose is nothing," Lord Gakupo snapped. "We shouldn't have in interfere ourselves."

"We might not have a choice," Lord Kaito interrupted before the argument could flare. "Red Rose isn't someone regular members can deal with."

"Not to mention most are fresh apprentices," Lady Luka pointed out. "They think they understand how dangerous their enemies are, women like Red Rose and Lady Miku, but they don't. They act rashly and die for it. We need..." She travelled off and looked at Lord Kaito and I thought I saw something pass between them – a strange look that defied description – but I wasn't certain.

I glanced at Commander Kaito. "What can I do?"

He looked at me with those dark blue eyes and smiled a faint, tired smile. "You're meant to become a senior tomorrow...but you wouldn't mind becoming one today, would you?"

I stared at him in confusion. "Kaito?"

"The hovercraft is here," Lord Gakupo announced suddenly. His hand was buried amongst his violet locks, somewhere near his ear. Lord Kaito glanced at him briefly, but then his eyes were on me and I felt like a child, small and helpless, and then he spoke and my insides went cold and I couldn't react at all.

"We're sending you after Red Rose."

_What?_

* * *

**I'm glad that's over. This chapter...I rewrote it three times and I'm still not happy with it. (it would've taken me weeks to get up, but I'd already started it several days before uploading the first chap.) I feel like the ending with just stupid. I don't like Len's interaction with Gakupo too much either...I'll build up the hate in following chapters, I suppose.**_  
_

**Kiyoteru will come into the story soon enough.  
**

**About Gakupo's treatment of the Third Wing family...I'll explain it more fully later, I suppose, but I'll do it here, too. People beyond Second Wing are treated very badly by the richer people. They're just more mouths to feed, so they're killed off most of the time. Why Gakupo could've killed Yuuma or Len if displeased will be explained later as well.  
**

**Lovely world I've come up.  
**

**On a more positive note...THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THOSE LOVELY REVIEWS! *-* They make me so happy. I felt warm inside when I read them. Hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint you as much as it disappointed me.  
**

**Sorry for grammer/spelling mistakes.  
**

**- raven_by_night  
**

**[ EDIT ] *angry forehead throbbing* It seems that whenever I use _slanted_ writing and upload in onto , all the words get pushed together. I dislike this...I'll keep an eye out for them now.  
**


	3. Rin II

**RIN – II**

Red.

That's all I remember.

I saw it dance through the air like the petals of roses, bloody and beautiful and everywhere, swirling and twirling around me, painting my fingers scarlet. I looked at them and felt their warmth and _laughed_, laughed so loudly my throat burned and tears stung my eyes, but I didn't know whether they were caused from pain or from joy or some other emotion I couldn't understand.

_I'm __crazy._

I was outside.

I don't know how I got there.

A man cried out; then a sound like thunder, a fierce jolt of energy ripping through my arm, and his cry was cut off and for a while there was nothing but _damn __silence_ but then wailing replaced it and more thunder and more glorious red petals and I laughed and I screamed and I cried and I _danced_.

Kaai Yuki watched me with that stupid penguin doll hugged to her chest. Knuckles shinning white. Chocolate eyes dull and disapproving. Blood bubbling from the gaping hole in her head.

_I'm c__razy._

/

The men in blue came later.

Hovercrafts painted black and red rippled out of the darkness and the thick metals doors swung open and men came pouring out like black rain, only with legs and heads and eyes and swords that glinted cruelly in the red-tinted light, but I wasn't scared because I had a _gun._I laughed and I fired without mercy and the first one's head exploded in a fountain of crimson.

I stared.

"There's rose petals coming out of his head," I said wonderingly.

Then the others were running at me and I forgot about him.

The big man lunged towards me and his sword cut through the air but I ducked to the side and it whistled right over my head. I could feel the wind it stirred, cold and fast. Then I was on the ground, perfectly balanced, and threw a vicious kick at his groin. His agony was expressed in a muffled grunt. He staggered slightly, and I took my chance and leapt up and crashed the barrel of my pistol against his forehead.

The last thing his squinty eyes saw was my wild grin.

The last thing I saw of him was an explosion of red.

_Huh. __More __flowers._

A flash of navy and then I was fighting again.

Two men now, one tall and bony, the other small but fast and muscular. The smaller one thrust his dagger towards me while the taller one sliced at the air with his sword. It was good his strikes were clumsy or I might have been hit as I lurched to one side and twisted, lashing out and snatching Short's wrists. I swung myself forward with unnatural strength and flew over his back and my feet crashed against the Tall's chest. The momentum threw him backwards.

He slammed against the pavement and cracked his head.

Behind me, Short whirled around and slashed, but I was too quick for him.

I slammed my feet into the concrete and the impact sent pain shooting up my leg but I scarcely felt it. With my heels grinding against the cold earth, I lifted my arm, curled my finger around the trigger and grinned wickedly.

I fired and the bullet tore through his heart. He opened his mouth and his scream pierced in the air in the form of thick red liquid that gushed down his face and splattered against his chest and strangled gurgling sounds. He reached out with trembling fingers and tears pooled in his eyes and his expression morphed into something gruesome and tight with pain. Then he keeled over and died.

Giggling, I turned back to Tall.

His eyes were glazed over and blood pooled around his neck. It glistened wetly in the moonlight.

Oh.

I didn't even need to shoot him.

_Annoying._

I stood over him, clicked my tongue and locked away. The hovercrafts were still there, humming softly, but the men were more hesitant now. They stood and stared with huge eyes and pasty faces, and one turned on heel and threw up with a pained roar. Fear leapt from soldier to solider, deadly as the plague, turning their insides to water and their legs to jelly, making them tremble and shake and fill with the primitive instinct to flee and survive.

I cackled like the lunatic I was.

"What's wrong?" I taunted. "Are you scared? You big strong men? Didn't you come to put me in my place? _Meeeeeeee_, little red rose~? Haha!"

They stared, all speechless, and I screeched with laughter...and then I raised my gun and I fired and another man crumbled, clutching at his abdomen. The string snapped, training kicked in and they surged forward. Two lingered behind and drew pistols from their hips. Fire burst from the end and a bullet soared towards me, but I side stepped and it whizzed past my ear with a ringing shriek. A blue man stabbed at me, shouting, and I bent over and I felt the pressure of the blade against my clothes, curving over my belly, but it was too high and didn't break through. My palms hit the earth and my legs snapped up and slapped the blade from his hands. He came at me, but I spun and swept his legs out from under him.

I shot. He died.

And yet more came, more and more and more but I killed them, every single one. I'm not sure how many came at me because in the end everything was red and I couldn't stop laughing or crying.

_They're __not __going __to __stop __me. __I'll __kill __and __kill __and __kill __and __they'll __never __stop __me, __me, __the __raven __draped __in __red __silk, __the __little __dove, __the __red __rose, __me __the __red __rose__-_

"Oi."

Silver screamed and I lurched to the left and the blade ripped through empty air. I scrambled away, spinning across the pavement, and sprung back onto my feet and lifted my gun...but he was already gone! I blinked in astonishment and when I opened my eyes his blade was coming down on me. I cursed and brought my gun up to meet it and metal clashed against metal in a shower of orange sparks.

For a split second, we stood frozen, and I examined my new _skilled _opponent.

His hair was the colour of molten gold and his eye was a strip of stolen blue sky, glowing with an eerie light of its own. His right eye was hidden beneath a wall of dark golden locks. Black straps – probably attached to some sort of eye patch – wrapped across his face, one arching above his eye brow, the other curving down his cheek and disappearing somewhere behind his neck. He wasn't overly large, but he wasn't scrawny either, with broad shoulders and a strong build. I could practically feel the muscles in his arms.

But it was the scar that I noticed most.

It followed the bridge of his nose, rising and then spearing down his left cheek. Pale brown tinged with red. Jagged around the edges; a vicious and violent slash.

An exact copy of my own.

"_Hey, Rin..."_

A voice, a boy's voice, echoing from somewhere far away.

"_...what are the stars made of?"_

I stared at the man and he stared at me.

I don't know if it was my imagination or what, but he seemed just as startled as me.

Then the everything exploded in fire and brimstone and I was flying.

I saw the sky and the hovercrafts, all black and red, phantoms detaching themselves from the shadows, then a streak of silver and white and then I crashed against the concrete and pain exploded in my side. It seared through me like fire and I tried to scream but the wind was knocked out of me and all I could do was lay there, agony digging through my flesh.

A shadow fell over me.

Wincing, I forced myself to look up.

A clone peered down at my with squinty eyes. He was impossibly huge, with a thick bulging neck and tree trunks for arms and overcooked sausages for fingers.

He reached down and wriggled through fat fingers beneath me. He bumped my shoulder and pain surged through me and I let out a little cry, but the clone didn't care and lifted me up off the ground.

My head dropped to one side and all I saw was fire.

Everything was burning – the houses, the pavement, the trees. All burning. The flames leapt from house to house, consuming everything in sight. Corpses boiled and popped and cooked before my eyes. Living men, too, screaming and running aimlessly, waving their arms around frantically, helplessly, as the flames ate away their skin and spilled down their throats and baked them from the inside out.

I couldn't see the blonde man.

The clone turned around and strode towards a silver hovercraft. It hummed gently. Inside, I saw some women clad in white clothing of neon and plastic thread that glowed bright and white at their necks and waists and wrists and ankles. Their hair was white, too, and they didn't dare meet my blood-stained gaze.

One grabbed my arm and wrenched it forward and the pain cut through me like a knife, and then a needle punctured my skin and the agony exploded and caved in my skull and ripped through my insides and gorged out my eye I couldn't see anything at all I was screaming and thrashing and crying and and and -

/

"_Hey, Rin..."_

_I looked up and saw a boy. I couldn't see his eyes...the shadows cast by his golden locks were too thick, but I saw his smile. It was warm and sweet and made me smile in return._

"_What are the stars made of?"  
_

_I giggled._

"_Are you stupid?" _

_He pouted. _

What the hell is this?

_I punched his shoulder lightly._

Who are you, exactly?

"_It's made of fireflies!"_

Wake up. I want to wake up. Let me wake up.

My chest hurts.

No...

Everything hurts.

My insides are burning.

I don't want you in my head.

Just go away. All of you...Everything I've ever seen or heard or done or forgotten...just disappear.

Let me sleep.

_He kissed my forehead._

_His lips were soft and gentle, and when he put his hand on mine everything in the world was suddenly as it should be._

Let me sleep.

* * *

**So yeah, crazy, murderous Rin. Isn't she cute? XD**

**This chapter is shorter then the other ones...mostly because I hate writing fighting scenes XD They're so annoying!  
**

**I apologize if this seemed to graphic for anyone. Tell me in a review or PM and I'll try to tone it down. I get a little carried away sometimes.  
**

**I really like this chapter, except for maybe the end. I started using 'pain' in every sentence, but apart from that I'm rather pleased.  
**

**Also, I spelt grammar wrong in the last chapter. While I was apologizing for mistakes. How ironic is that?  
**

**Anyway...  
**

**THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS :D They make me so happy~  
**

**[ EDIT ] Put 'argued' out my eye instead of 'gorged' out my eye...for some strange reason...Fixed.  
**

**- raven_by_night  
**


	4. Len II

**LEN – II**

"_We're __sending __you __after __Red __Rose.__"_

What? Are you serious, Kaito?

"_It's __an __important __mission, __so __don't __screw __it __up, __brat.__"_

I know that, Gakupo, but if its so bloody important, why aren't you coming, too?

"_You'll __do __fine.__"__  
_

You'd do better, master. In fact, _we'd _do better. Why not eliminate the problem right now? Why not send in all the seniors and rip Red Rose to pieces? She's strong, but she isn't immortal!

"_We're __trusting __you, __Len.__"_

Just me, Luka?

"_We'll __be __right __behind __you.__"_

Thank you, Meiko. I'm aware. About three miles behind me.

"_Come __on, __Len.__Its __time __to __go.__"_

You're really serious about this, aren't you? You bastard, Kaito. What are you playing at? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate this ridiculous faith you have in me and I'm no coward, but I refuse to believe you and Luka agreed to send me in alone. You aren't a fool. You know how easily I could have my throat ripped out by that monster of a woman. You know how quickly my life could be snuffed out. You know how dangerous and resourceful Red Rose is.

Lady Hatsune Miku relies on her, right?

So why? Why are you wasting this sort of opportunity and sending me in by myself, when you just could bomb her out of existence or go in yourself, with Gakupo at your flank and Luka twirling her knives and Meiko swinging that enormous war hammer?

I don't understand.

If I live, would you care to explain this farce to me afterwards?

I'd _really _like to know what the hell is going on in your head.

\\\

The ride to Second Wing lasted a life time.

I was alone. The craft, like all the others, could drive itself automatically, working off an in-built map of the various sections and Kaito's coordinates. Unlike the outside, the inside was sleek and silver. All the surfaces seemed to gleam with their own dull light, glinting off at different directions, and it was beginning to give me a serious headache. Muttering, I rubbed my temples though it did little to relieve the pressure steadily building behind my eyes.

The humming of the hovercraft seemed impossibly loud. So did the beating of my heart and the roaring of my blood. My heart was like a drum in my ears, my blood a storming river; I gritted my teeth and squeezed my eye shut, willing for silence.

I didn't get any.

Dammit.

I'm not afraid of fighting. I don't enjoy it, but I don't dislike it, either, and I'm not afraid to clash with an opponent. When I was an apprentice, the thought of battle terrified me, left me cold and shivering and sometimes crying, but not anymore. In all honestly, I was indifferent. If I died, I died. There was nothing I could do about that except fight my hardest and avoid the whistling bullets and bloodied blades.

But I couldn't help being anxious.

The thought of facing Red Rose was daunting. She was supposedly immune to pain and laughed as her foes died around her. She couldn't tell the difference between enemy and ally and murdered anyone foolish enough to stumble across her path with a gun that never ran out of ammunition. She danced in the blood of her enemies and her friends, laughing and laughing and laughing...

And I'm going to fight her.

I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed.

And then the hovercraft shuddered and stopped, and the thick metallic door swung outwards with a whisper of sound. I stood and grasped the hilt of my sword, strapped to my waist.

I looked down.

A man lay dead. His mouth was open in a silent scream of agony, a round 'O' shape, and his eyes had rolled back in his head and the whites were split with bright-red veins and blood oozed across his chest and spilled from between his blue lips. He'd been shot three times, twice in the heart and once in the neck; and all the bullets leaves gaping, black holes ringed in torn flesh and bubbling blood.

I stared.

My shoulders tensed, my grip on my sword tightened. I ground my teeth together as anger flared in my chest._ Seven so far. _How many more men would I find outside, all dead and rotting? How many more lives had Red Rose taken with that damned pistol of hers?

_Is she laughing?  
_

I leapt from the craft and over my dead comrade and the sounds of savage fighting assaulted my ears. I heard the _crack _of a gun going off, the shriek of the bullet and then a pained scream. Footsteps, too, thunderous footsteps as men surged forward and died like flies.

I stepped out into the open and realised I actually wasn't. The hovercraft had landed behind a house of pale bricks and wooden planks and I was bathed in shadows. Moving silently, I walked around and saw _her._

Her hair yellow and strung back in a complex bun atop her head, where a crimson flower bloomed in bloody red pride and a white bow held it all together. She was slender, with milky skin and soft curves. Her attire was scarlet and vibrant; a kimono, I think they're called, all red and speckled with petals of blood. It was short, too, stopping not even half way down her thigh and showing off her long white legs.

And she was laughing.

And crying.

And screaming.

All at once.

Tears streamed down her cheek – only one cheek, the cheek you could see – and she screamed a brutal scream that rose and fell and cracked and splintered into insane laughter, a sort of high-pitched cackling that sounded like agony personified. And all the while you could see her gun going off, the sharp screeches of sound, and men crumbling all around her and blood dripping off her fingers. She staggered to one side, giggling and sobbing, and then she whirled around and lunged back into battle with the ferocity of a wild beast. The gun was like a strip of night sky in her hand, smoke streaming from the barrel.

She fought and another man died and I was jolted back into reality.

I charged forward, running as fast as my legs could carry me.

I approached her from behind. She was too engrossed in her own little bloody world to notice my advance. I couldn't drawn my sword and killed her right there, in that instant.

Instead, I ruined it all and spoke.

"Oi."

I wrenched my sword forward and she spun away, dancing across the pavement, but she took too long and I was upon her before she realised I'd moved. My blade came down and she uttered a curse and raised her gun to meet my slash. Metal clanged against metal and sparks burned the air.

For a split second, we stood froze, and I examined my lunatic of an opponent.

Her hair wasn't yellow. It was like spun gold with streaks of amber and orange where the light twisted and bent. Her eye was a glittering pool of fresh blood and I saw insanity there, wild and uncontrollable...but that might just have been the watery affect created by her tears. They swelled in her eye and rolled down her cheek and off her chin and exploded against her torso like little bombs. Somehow, those tears only made her more frightening, but small, too, like a lost little girl. I couldn't see her left eye at all; a river of silky golden locks hid it from view, but I could see bandages peering through.

But it was the scar I noticed the most.

It arched over her smooth nose and near split her cheek in two. Pale brown tinged with red. Jagged around the edges; a vicious and violent slash.

An exact copy of my own.

"_Are you stupid?"_

A girl's voice, a laughing voice, resounding from somewhere alarmingly close yet far, far away.

"_Its made of fireflies!"_

I stared at the woman and she stared at me.

I don't know if it was my imagination or what, but she seemed just as startled as me.

Then the earth shattered and fire spewed out and everything went to hell.

The earth buckled beneath out feet and jolted out with enough force to send us flying. I caught one last glimpse of Red Rose, her eye giant and bewildered, and then I was hurtling through the air. I saw the sky, then the houses, then the pavement and again the sky and again the houses and again the pavement and then the pavement leapt up at me and pain speared through my shoulder and bells rung in my ears. I swallowed of a cry of pain and thought, _I just dislocated my damn shoulder._

Then I ground my teeth together – again – and forced myself to rise.

It was a painful process. I couldn't see them, but I knew my skin was dotted with ugly purple bruises and my hands were grazed and stained with blood. My entire body ached and my shoulder screeched with agony at the slightest movement, but I held back my whimpers and endured. I managed to wriggle onto my knees, then my strength waned and I had to sit there a moment, breathing heavily and my head smarting and my shoulder throbbing and my skin burning -

_What?_

I looked up and saw the fire. It was everywhere, licking at the sky, surging over grass and concrete and gravel, and burned with a blazing orange light, so bright in the centre it was painful to peer at. The flames leapt from wooden roof to wooden roof and devoured it all, crashing through the ceiling and consuming the inhabitants with vicious glee. Men from Justice were no longer men; they were walking infernos, dripping with orange sparks and wrapped in serpents of red flame. They screamed and cried as their eyes turned to liquid and melted down their boiled cheeks and their fingers blackened and crumbled to ash.

The sight turned my insides to water, but by some miracle I didn't throw up.

Instead, I lifted my gaze to the sky and saw a silver hovercraft. It was larger then most and the silver was dulled down to a watery grey shade. Turquoise lines framed the wings and the base and seemed to glow with an ominous light of their own. The body had opened up and though I could see nothing but darkness within, I knew immediately what lay beyond the shadows.

"Firestones," I breathed. "Hatsune bombed us with firestones."

Firestones...they were immensely powerful crystals, spitting out enough radioactivity to kill your cells within three months. They were tiny things that glimmered and sparkled like diamonds and emitted a warm pink-orange light, while at their centre they smouldered a deep ruby red circled in ringlets of yellow and amber and flecks of glittering gold. So beautiful to look at. Yet all it took was the faintest of touches, a soft breeze or a gentle nudge, and the firestones erupted into a hungry whirl wind of flames, so hot they melted stone.

The doors of the firestone hovercraft sealed up and it rippled like water and then it was gone, cloaked in curtain of invisibility. I turned away in disgust.

_She murdered everyone._

Smoke tinged with scarlet curled around my throat and assaulted my nose and I let out a hacking cough. Razor blades sliced at my throat. I was suddenly aware of how dry my mouth was; my tongue felt fat and sticky, the roof dry as a desert and just as sandy, and the smoke wasn't helping much. Water strung the corners of my eye and as I blinked it away, I saw wide tunnels of pitch-black smoke slowly converging towards the star-speckled sky above. Near by, a fire burned fiercely, crackling and popping. Heat rolled off it in suffocating waves, but the amount of smoke that spilled towards the sky dwarf the heat...dwarfed everything, really. They were immense and wide and seemed to go on and on forever, spearing up into the night sky like black blades.

_I'll suffocate, _I realised with a jolt. _I need to move and get away or I'll suffocate. There's so much smoke...everything is burning. Its as if the whole of Second Wing is on fire._

So, I forced my body to move.

My shoulder did not agree.

Pains sparked in my shoulder and ripped through my arm, but I gritted my teeth and promptly ignored it. I struggled onto my feet and my legs wobbled dangerously beneath me, but only for a moment. Standing there, amidst black smoke and glittering sparks and ravenous flames, I took a moment to examine myself; apart from the dislocated shoulders, I was, amazingly, unharmed, it seemed. There were bruises – some throbbing with an angry red, others already stained with purple or black or dark blue – and cuts that oozed red blood, but apart from that I was in one piece.

I felt my waist.

My sword was gone.

I cursed. My only weapon was gone! Not that I'd be able to use it properly, with my shoulder out, but still...!

Grumbling, I clutched my shoulder and started forward, with gravel crunching nosily beneath my boots and sweat trickling down my cheeks, cold as ice and just as sharp. My scar tingled in that annoying, vaguely painful way it did. My shoulder screamed with every step, but the pain was in the back of my mind, unnoticed and unimportant, a mild stinging sensation easily ignored. It would be different later, once I was alone in my room with nothing but the flickering candlelight to distract me, but I didn't dare ponder on that.

The street was awash with flames, but they were surprisingly easy to avoid. The firestones had been dropped where Red Rose and I had been fighting, and while that area was a sea of raging fire, with stone and wood both burning, here the flames had stayed with the houses and left the street relatively untouched. I could hear people wailing within some of the houses I passed; I even saw a man once, flailing his arms and making a desperate gargling sound, somewhere between a shrill shriek and mindless whimpering. He beat his flaming hands against the splintered glass window even as the skin peeled away and the flesh cooked and he stared at me with eyes that were no longer there. Then the roof of his house collapsed and heat surged at me in fierce waves and I had no choice but to serve away.

I stopped and helped men of Justice when I could. I found a man lying on his back, moaning with pain; vicious flames had destroyed his right arm, ripped off the skin and cooked the flesh within and painted it all with agonising burns. His hair was green as fresh grass and I supposed his eyes were too, but they were glassy with pain, and the left was weeping blood.

It took me a minute, but I eventually put a name to his pasty face: Gumo...or Gumiya. I couldn't really remember. I decided to go with Gumo, because who gave a damn anyway?

"Gumo, can you hear me?" I asked as I knelt beside him, reaching out gingerly with my working arm. I brushed my fingers against his shoulder and he whimpered. "Gumo?"

Nothing. Not even a blink.

He was dead to the world, because his world was his pain and I couldn't blame him for not wanting to be a part of that.

_Thud-thud-thud_

Footsteps. My eyes flickered up and I saw a Second Wing man stumbling towards us, towards all the fire and the death. The moron. He wasn't even injured! His dark brown suit was in perfect order, aside from the slightly askew tie of dark blue and white stripes; his chocolate brown hair was a royal mess, with loose strands forking and jerking whichever what way they pleased, and his eyes were watery and wide and bright with terror. He held a briefcase in one hand, but as he ventured closer his grip loosened and it cracked against the concrete, but the man didn't seem to care.

He was moving past me, towards the firestones, but I couldn't let him.

"Hey!" I shouted and my hand whipped round and grasped his wrist. There was no strength in his arm; it just hung there, limb and useless. His huge eyes flickered to my face. "You can't go over there. Can't you see everything is burning? You'll die!"

"Yuki," He burst out, his voice tiny and trembling, thin with fear. "Yuki, my daughter, my sweet daughter..."

"She's dead." I couldn't ease him into it, not if he was going to go searching blindly through the flames himself...besides, it was probably true. No-one could survive firestones.

My words hit him like a bullet and the light left his eyes. He stood there for a moment, just _staring_ at me, and then he collapsed under his own weight and crumbled to his knees. More staring, and tense, heavy silence, and then he began to sob. They were wretched sobs, beginning in the form of little, squeaking whimpers, but rapidly growing louder and stronger until his whole frame was shuddering. Tears ran down his face in glistening white rivers. Screams of anguish burst from his throat.

My throat tightened. "I'm sorry," I said thickly. _God, I hope his daughter is dead and I'm not putting him through this shit for nothing. _Awkwardly, I gripped his shoulder, then stroked his back in what I hoped was a soothing manner.

"She was such a good girl," He whispered wetly. His voice rose and fell at random intervals and I could barely understand him, but I nodded anyway.

"I'm sure she was."

"Yuki, oh my little Yuki..." He trailed off, sobbed some more, then rose his brown eyes to stare at me after what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly I wanted nothing more then to sink into the pavement and disappear. "I...I am Hiyama Kiyoteru."

"Len." I didn't have a surname.

He peered at my shoulder. "Y-you're injured..."

"Gumo's worse." I mumbled. I glanced at my comrade and wondered if his wounds were going to kill him. I didn't know what to do – I wasn't a healer, never had been, and it wasn't like I had any equipment to use.

Hiyama looked at Gumo and his face went as green as the dying man's hair.

Then he looked at the fire, remembered his little Yuki and returned to his savage grief.

\\\

Kaito arrived later, with several medics and at least fifty men in tow. He looked down at me with those deep, deep blue eyes of his, blue with swirls of green and flecks of gold and pockets of black, eyes that made me feel safe and warm, even loved.

Not now.

Now, for some unknown reason, those eyes filled my chest with a rage as hot and angry as the fire that surrounded us. It coursed through me and roared in my ears like blood; ballooned in my chest and clawed at my rib cage and sliced through my throat. All at once I wanted to crack his skull against the pavement, to watch and laugh as his life blood bubbled out between the cracks and painted that smirking face of his scarlet -

"Len, this will hurt," A voice said, then my shoulder was moving and the bones jolted and the pain was sharp and fierce, but I clamped my mouth shut and didn't allow so much as a gasp to escape them.

I glanced at the woman standing beside me and realised it was Cul, with her ruby red gaze and locks of crimson hair strung back in a bouncing pony-tail. She wore gold, with stripes of white and dabbles of red, all marking her as a Medic. She caught my gaze and grinned toothily.

At any other time, I would've grinned back.

But her uniform, with the four-pronged symbol of Justice threaded onto her shoulder in thin black thread, was making me want to open her throat.

I looked away, terrified by my murderous desires.

"Thanks." I muttered. I rolled my shoulder and found it a little stiff, but any lingering pain was quickly receding. I stood and brushed some ash from my shirt.

Cul frowned in concern, her large, child-like eyes following me. "Len...?"

"Look after Gumo. He's dying."

"I...I know. Teto and Haku are helping him, at the moment -"

"You go help, too. You're the most experienced. He really needs help."

That was the easiest way to get rid of Cul – shower her with flattery, then drop a serious subject in the centre of it all and watch as she scampered away to assist. She hesitated a moment, watching my face, then nodded curtly and moved to help Haku and Teto, who appeared to be dressing Gumo's terrible wounds. Haku, with her silvery hair held back in a clumsy pony-tail, seemed to be panicking, shook her hands helplessly and blinked back tears, while Teto snarled and cursed, her pink eyes blazing.

I turned.

Kaito stood there.

"Sorry." I said coldly. "I failed. Red Rose got away."

The faintest of smiles touched Kaito's lips.

I wanted to punch him so badly my fingers tingled.

"No, Len, you mustn't think that...you didn't fail. Come with me," He turned and started towards some Justice hovercrafts floating against the pitch-black sky. Reluctantly, I followed, as a team of men streamed past. I heard a faint whining and looked up to see hovercrafts opening up their bellies and releasing gallons of water down onto the howling flames. Hissing choked the air, accompanied by the crackling of wood and the popping of flesh. The fact I could hear that made my skin crawl.

"We had no hope of cornering Red Rose. Not tonight. We underestimated Hatsune's brutality." Kaito continued. His boots clapped against the gravel. Orange light dancing across the black material of his senior uniform. "I never thought she'd go this far to protect her little dove...apparently, I don't know her as well as I thought." There was something bitter in his voice as he said that. "About Hiyama Kiyoteru – the man who was sitting beside you – we've taken him into custody. He was involved with the English mafia earlier on...however, I'm thinking of letting the charges drop. He was probably dragged into all of this by Miku..." He glanced at me over his shoulder. That damn smile was still there."You did well to fight Red Rose at all, Len."

My lips twisted into a sarcastic smirk. "Oh? Well, thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

Kaito stared at me, confusion and surprise – and hurt? – flickering across his features.

Then he turned away.

* * *

**Done :D I rather liked this chapter, even if its a bit long. Sorry about that xD It seems most of my readers prefer short chapters, but unless it involves fighting, I just can't do it xD**

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews :D YOU MAKE ME SO HAPPY!  
**

**So yeah...building the hate between Len and some Justice members. Next Len chapter, Gakupo will appear and *spolier*  
**

**I apologize for the overuse of words...fire doesn't agree with me.  
**

**I also apologize for any grammar mistakes. I read through it, but I do miss things.  
**

**And, lastly, I think I should say the obvious at least once, since I didn't in the first chapter: I do not own Kagamine Rin/Len or the other VOCALOIDS, or Karakuri Burst. ;)  
**

**- ravenbynight  
**


	5. Piko I

**PIKO**

I dreamed of my father and Miki. We were all at home, with its grey walls and hard wooden floorboards and creaking windows, but it was _home_, and Father was trying to make Miki laugh even though we all knew his jokes were awful. Miki ran her fingers through her chocolate hair and sighed, then peered at me over her milky white shoulder and winked. I giggled into my hands. My older cousin looked very pretty today. She was wearing her favourite dress; one of a rosy pink shade, dotted with white dots and blue lace threaded into the hem. She twirled and laughed and smiled her bright, bright smile.

Then the purple demon burst through the door, with red eyes and a black sword, and Father crumbled to the floor and I screamed and Miki -

_Miki - _

"_NO! DON'T HURT MIKI!_" I jolted up right and reached out, reaching for Miki, for _Miki_, but instead of her large brown eyes I saw a pair of pink ones, narrow and watery and wide with shock, accompanied by a head of bright pink hair and a long face and a uniform of navy and purple and silver. There was a sword at his side.

I stared at him.

He stared at me.

Silence hung in the room and chilled my body. I pulled the sheets around me, wrapping them around my little shoulders, but I resisted the temptation to pull them over my head. I was shaking, I realised, and there were tears pooling in my eyes and threatening to spill over and roll down my flushed cheeks. I was warm and might've even felt safe if it had been big brother Len I had woken to, but this stranger...was he a stranger? His hair...the alarmingly bright, pink hue...I knew it from somewhere -

Oh.

"Y-you..." I stammered. My voice trembled with my shoulders. "W-where's b-big brother Len? Where? W-what did y-you do? W-why are you here?" My voice was getting higher and squeakier with each question and my bowels were turning to water and my hands shook uncontrollably. I was so scared. He helped murder Father and Miki. He didn't _do_ anything, but that's why I hated him. At least big brother _tried_ to save us and, at Miki's prompting, managed to rescue me, but _this_ person just stood there and let the purple demon cut Father down...and Miki...oh, _Miki_...

"A-ah, look, don't cry," The man spluttered and I realised I was sobbing. "Look, Len's just gone out for a bit, he'll be back soon," I was barely hearing him, my heart was beating so hard and fiercely and my blood was roaring in my ears and my sobs were so _loud_ and painful, each whimper tearing through my chest and slicing up my throat.

I peered through tear-stained vision and saw the pink haired man was getting _closer_. He raised his arm as he wriggled over, reaching for me.

"N-no, no, no," I whimpered, trying to move away but my body was frozen and shaking and I couldn't move at all. His fingers were long and slender, but his fingernails were stumped and chipped.

"It's okay, eh, kid," He said, maybe gently, I couldn't tell anymore. "Len will be back soon. He told me to look after you." He was too close. Too close. He said those things but he was going to hurt me, I knew he was, or the purple demon was going to march in and show me big brother's bloodied head before he killed me, too, while the pink man just _stood there -_

"N-no," I cried. "No, no, no -"

"Kid -"

"**NO!**" I was up before I realised I was moving and I smacked his hand away and _ran_, ran as fast and as hard as my little legs could carry me. The door protested my violent movements but it opened all the same and then I was outside, charging over polished wooden floorboards and running blindly, head down, tears streaming down my face. I heard the pink man shout and scramble out into the open and his thunderous footfalls exploded in my ears.

_He's chasing me! Oh, no, he's chasing me! What do I do? What do I do?_

I spun around the corner, my bare feet skidding across the smooth wood, and stumbled. My previous speed thrust me forward, forcing me to stumble madly and then I crashed against something hard and cold and I began to fall, but a fist caught a clump of my hair and wrenched my head upwards. Pain shot through my scalp and I screamed in shock and fear and pain.

"Let go!" I squealed. I clawed at the fist, but it was encased in a leather glove and the wrist was protected my some thick material. I couldn't reach the skin. I clawed and hit at it anyway, my eyes squeezed closed all the while. "No! Let me go! Let me go!"

I heard more footsteps and ragged breath and then, by the sounds of it, pink man staggered around the corner.

"Kid -!" He began angrily...but then his voice died. A few moments passed before he spoke again, and when he did his voice was tiny and terrified. Much like mine. "Lord Gakupo."

_Lord Gakupo._

My insides went cold.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and tried to quell the awful dread building in my stomach.

I might've succeed, but then I saw the purple demon.

His impossibly long hair was strung back in a fat, wavy pony-tail and his black uniform was free of glittering blood splatters, but other then that he was the same. The same blood thirsty fire blazing in his narrow, purple eyes; the same sickly sweet grin twisted across his expression; the same deep shadows dancing between his eyes.

There were still tears trickling down my face and dripping softly off my chin, but I was deadly silent now. Not a whisper of sound escaped my lips.

"Yuuma." The demon grunted. "Explain _this_." He twisted my hair and it tugged punishingly at my scalp. I whimpered in pain.

"U-um...I-I was l-looking after him for Len," The pink man – Yuuma – explained quietly. "S-since Len had to -"

"I know where the dog is," The demon snapped and Yuuma closed his mouth. The demon's purple-red eyes lingered on him for a moment or two, then they rolled to mine and it was all I could do not to rip my gaze away. His smile was one of sinister glee. "What's wrong, little mouse? Frightened? Len will return soon...though I can't say for certain if he'll be alive or not."

"You're lying," I choked out with a sudden burst of foolish courage. "Big brother _promised_ to protect me. He wouldn't leave me alone with...with _you._ He _wouldn't!_"

Anger smouldered in his eyes. The grip on my hair tightened and the pain spiked.

"I'm lying, am I? You little shit. Learn to mind your tongue. I'm a senior and your commander and I can kill you whenever I wish to." He smirked at that, and jerked my hair so suddenly I cried out. His dark chuckles joined my whimpers of pain and fear.

But it was still there, that stupid courage, bubbling and spitting in my chest. It rose up my throat like vomit, searing the muscles, and I wanted to keep the words inside, I did, but they spilled from my lips and exploded in the air like bombs.

"I'm not scared of you!" I screeched. "You're stupid and cruel and-and _evil_. You should just burn and die, you monster, you rapist, you bastard, you murderer, you -!"

The world spun.

Pain burned through me and I tried to scream, but the floorboards smashed against my chest before I could and the wind was stolen from me. I gasped and coughed violently, my whole body shuddering. I tried to rise, pulling myself up on awkward, shaking arms, but a foot slammed down on my back and my body cracked against the floor and pain sparked in my chest, flaring into an inferno. It was sharp and hot and I knew something was broken. A rib or two? I couldn't tell.

"Mice shouldn't insult animals bigger then them," The demon snarled.

Steel hissed.

The black metal was cold as ice on my cheek. He applied pressure and cut through my skin like scissors through paper. Blood bubbled out of me and dribbled over my cheek, burning me like fire. I trembled and sobbed.

"I-I'm sorry," I squeaked. "I-I'm really, really sorry..."

"I know," The demon replied. He wriggled the tip of his sword into the wound and poked and twisted. The pain was blinding. It blazed through me, surged with my blood, pulsed with my heart; I whimpered and sobbed and tried to scream, but the pain in my chest was terrible, too, and it was agony to make a sound.

But then he lowered the blade to my throat, blood trailing hot and red on my skin, and pure, icy terror made all that pain vanish. I screamed and thrashed, and the demon laughed a sick, maniacal laugh and lifted his foot, only to smash it against my back once more. The pain...it was no longer pain, it was sheer agony, and white lights danced across my vision, partnered with streaks of black and other colours, all blinking and flickering. I laid my head against the cold floorboards, strength seeping out of my body. I couldn't do anything, not move or speak or even cry or feel scared. The world was a blur of hazy lights and a dull throbbing in my cheek and chest.

Then I heard footsteps, heavy and loud, and then a voice.

A strong, murderous voice.

"_Gakupo!_"

* * *

**Another short chapter...but from Piko's point of view :D**

**Hmph. I tried to write Rin's chapter, so as to keep with the Rin-Len pattern, but, after spending half an hour staring the a blank screen, I realised Rin's chapter wasn't going to happen just yet...so I've wrote Piko's and Len's. Len's is done and ready for upload, but I'm gonna wait a few days before uploading it...because I'm a terrible person :D  
**

**Also...thanks for all the lovely reviews~! *-* Those reviews keep me going.  
**

**I apologize for any grammer mistakes.  
**

**The next chapter will be much longer.  
**

**- ravenbynight  
**


	6. Len III

**Warning: Foul, adult language. (the 'f' word included).**

**LEN – III**

I'm not sure when, but sometime during the flight open I drifted into a dreamless slumber. There was never a better sleep then a dreamless one; a brief moment of respite, when I was haunted by the farmhouse, with the girl screaming and crying and red surging down her cheek and the blood oozing across the walls and the man, the man...

_Tall and dark, a phantom of the shadows, he drifted towards me and though I tried to flee I couldn't move, the pain was too awful, I couldn't even lift a finger without screaming. Besides, there was no strength in me. An awful numbness was creeping through my legs and tingling in the tips of my fingers, but the pain still burned bright and fierce in my eye, or what used to be my eye. The man reached out with a blackened hand and brushed his cold fingers against my cheek. When he withdrew them, they shone with my sweat and my blood._

"_Don't hurt her," I rasped._

_He smiled._

\\\

My eyes popped open and suddenly I was awake.

The ceiling stared down at me, pale and white and chipped, and over me Haku stood with her silvery hair strung back in a thick pony-tail and her red eyes dull from exhaustion. She wore sky blue scrubs, an abrupt burst of colour in a white world. When she caught my gaze, a slight smile graced her features.

"Good morning, Len," she murmured.

My voice was horse and thick. "Haku...where..."

"The Justice Hospital," she informed me gently. "You passed out during the ride and Lord Commander had you transferred here immediately."

I blinked in confusion...and then it all came back to me, a flood of memories that left me stunned and speechless; the inferno of hellish fire, Hiyama Kiyoteru's savage, uncontrollable grief and his desperate screams, my irrational rage towards Justice members, towards Cul and Kaito, and Red Rose...

"Why?" I asked, once I remembered how to speak. "I'd dislocated my shoulder...why did I pass out...?"

"There was a small amount of internal bleeding and minor oxygen suffocation." Haku explained. She wasn't look at me anymore; she was staring at her clipboard and jotting down some notes, the paper crackling and whining as the pen dancing across the blank surface. "But you're okay now. You'll be a little stiff for a day or too, probably, but take it easy and you'll be fine."

"Oh..."

She glanced at me and smiled again. A warm, friendly smile. "I'll have Teto fetch your uniform, then you can head out."

I nodded mutely. Haku turned and disappeared, leaving me to examine my surroundings.

I lay in a bed of white sheets and pillows and silvers bars to prevent me from rolling in my sleep and splitting my skull upon the hard, white tiles. White...everything was white here; the walls, the floors, the ceiling, even the doctors and nurses. Their uniforms were white as snow, with ringlets of molten gold or emerald green, announcing their status as doctor and nurse respectfully, save for the scattered few who wore scrubs of light blue or purple. The room was a long, narrow rectangle, with six beds lined up either side, evenly spaced. Most were filled, though none of the injuries here seemed particularly serious; there was me, with my once dislocated shoulder; and another three men, one with four fingers missing, his friend with bleach white bandages wrapped tightly around his head, stained crimson by the blood oozing from his ear, and the last with nothing more then a band-aid arching across his nose.

I struggled into a sitting position and tested out my arm, raising it gingerly, pulling it back, then thrusting it forward, then pointing at the ceiling, then at the far wall. I repeated this exercise till the stiffness leaked from my muscles and a trickle of pain returned, but that was good; it told me I was healing.

As my finger pointed accusingly at the left all, Teto appeared with a grin and some useless gossip I don't even remember and, most importantly, my uniform folded neatly in her arms. It smelt of soap and water and vaguely of Teto, which was rather frightening.

"Your wife is angry at you." She said pointedly.

I flushed.

"Cul isn't my _wife_." I grumbled and pushed back the sheets. I was white, too, I saw, clad in a loose white shirt several sizes too large and long white pants, all made from thin plastic thread and warm.

Teto chuckled dryly. "No, but she does care about you. You ought to be kinder to her. She's worried..."

"Then tell her I'm fine." I snapped and stood. "Where's the bathroom?"

Mischief shone in Teto's cherry pink eyes. "What's wrong, sexy? Just get undressed here~ Its been _sooooo_ long since I've seen a good-looking man naked~"

I growled, despite my building blush. "Teto..."

She cackled and pranced towards a door I hadn't noticed before and wrapped her knuckles against the shiny grey surface. "Right here, hot stuff."

I grunted at her and she giggled and twirled away. I glared after her, then shouldered the door open and stepped into a room of more blinding white surfaces and thin neon lights throwing a ghastly, watery yellow glow shattering and spiking off every surface. A dull pounding formed between my eyes and I sighed in dismay. _Just what I need. A bloody headache._ Muttering, I moved further in, past the silver sinks and closed cubicals and into the shower sections, abandoned save for me.

I began to dress, and my mind, unoccupied, went wandering.

Red Rose's face swarm before my vision; she screamed and she sobbed and she laughed and she killed, the pistol a sharp clap of thunder, the bullet a shrill shriek that never ended. Her eye was red as blood and her scar was jagged and gruesome, spearing down her face, peering out from under bone white bandages and a sea of golden locks. Her laughter rang in my ears like sirens, but so did her tears, the wretched sobs and unstoppable whimpers that somehow merged together to create screaming, and then became higher and higher and shriller and shriller until she was cackling, stumbling between the bodies, tears glistening wetly as they streamed down her cheek.

_Why was she crying? _I couldn't help but wonder. She had no reason to cry. She was doing her job, the one she reportedly adored, cutting life after life short with a simple tug of her finger. And yet she was screaming and crying, even as she danced through the blood and cackled at the sky.

I wondered what would have happened if the stones hadn't hit us. Would we have fought? Would she have put a bullet in my chest? Would I have fallen and watched as she laughed and laughed and cried and cried, with fires burning furious and bloody in her red eyes, roaring as high and as wild as her vicious insanity?

If I had won, would she have laughed as she died?

I closed my eyes. Her face flashed before me, but her eye wasn't red. It was blue as the summer sky and she was smiling, a sweet, cheeky smile I'd seen somewhere before.

"_Are you stupid?"_

I fiddled with my tie.

"_The sky is made of fireflies!"_

I laced up my boots and fought to ignore the voice whispering in my ears, but it was near impossible. Who _was_ that? As far as I knew, I was an only child and an orphan, my mother gone and my father murdered and any remaining family members as uncaring as they were unknown to me. Kaito had told me as much when I woke up in the bowels of Justice, shivering and afraid, with not a shard of memory to cling to. My life before justice was an endless black abyss that I dared not visit, but now this soft voice was squeezing through to throw my present into disarray.

_I don't need this._

I stalked out of the bathroom, dumped my white clothes on the hospital bed and began my search for the exit, but Haku appeared and declared she would me outside, despite my protests. "You'll get lost," she insisted stubbornly and, sighing, I gave in and followed her through the stark whiteness of the hospital. When we passed the ICU, I could hear a man sobbing and someone shouting, and Gumo's burned arm flashed before my eyes. I could see the skin melting or peeling or charred black, the flesh beneath cooked and boiled in his own blood. A shudder ripped down my spine.

Outside, the sun was creeping towards the wall of First Wing, sending streaks of orange and red across the purpling sky, and the breeze carried a distinct chill. I blinked in surprise.

"Its already this late...?" I mused aloud.

Haku nodded. "Its almost four o'clock. Your were brought back around midnight."

"Ah...what happened to Second Wing? Did the fire spread?"

Haku paled. Remembering the fire, probably. "No. Lord Commander got it under control pretty quickly...a lot of people died, though..."

I grimaced and opened my mouth to say something, but no words came and I closed it again. Haku murmured a quite farewell and turned and strolled back inside the hospital, her boots clapping against the pavement and her pony-tail swinging in time with her hips.

\\\

The walk to my room was long and made my shoulder ache, but it was blissfully quite and none of the seniors appeared. Kaito was in the Black Sword Tower, most likely, cursing and muttering over the pulsing Voca map, with Meiko frowning at his side and Luka fretting over their health and Gakupo ignoring all of them, seated in a pool of shadows with his sword in his lap and his purple-red eyes blazing softly in the dim candlelight.

Gakupo...just imaging him caused anger to flare in my chest. I had never liked Gakupo, and he'd never liked me, not since I spat in his face and called him a rapist and a murder and a monster. He'd stared down at me with eyes like fire and reached for his sword, but then Kaito was there and I was saved...but even Kaito, calm and caring Kaito, brought about an immense hatred I couldn't control nor explain. When at had it started? And why didn't I despise Haku and Teto anymore? I remembered Cul coming to help me before, when I sat motionless beside Gumo as he moaned and wept blood. Her red eyes were warm with concern, while mine smouldered with uncontrollable loathing.

What was _wrong _with me?

I shook my head, chasing the thoughts from my mind. It didn't matter anymore. I would speak to Cul later; I was uncertain in my ability to talk to her without becoming angry like before, but it seemed to be the sight of the Justice uniform that enraged me. _Why, though? It makes no sense..._

I sighed again and blinked and realised I'd reached my room. The sky was darker, now; the red still lingered, burning like rivers of blood against a sky of blazing purples and navy blues and pockets of black speckled with pale stars. The training courts were all but deserted; the only sound was the wind, whistling through the grasses and the trees, and the distance murmur of conversation, the occasional shout of dismay or bellow of laughter. The breeze tickled my skin with a faint chill.

I turned to my room and reached out to slid the door open.

But it already was.

Even as I gaped in shock, I noted no-one was inside – Yuuma was gone, and with him Piko, and that could never mean anything good. The sheets of my futon had been thrown carelessly aside and the door had been wrenched open with brutal strength; the violent shove had knocked it askew, so it jerked to one side. Some of the frame was splintered and fragments of wood clattered to the floorboards.

Worry rose in my throat, icy cold and thick with despair, and then there was anger, anger at Yuuma and maybe a little at Piko, but not much. I needed to find him, that much was certain, before he ran into someone he shouldn't. Instinctively, I reached for my sword at my waist, but then I saw it wasn't there and remembered I'd lost it during the firestone bombing.

"Damn," I hissed, and -

And then Piko screamed.

I was moving before I realised it. The reaction was instinctive and once I knew I was moving I picked up the pace, my boots falling like thunder on the wood, shaking its foundations. I almost ran into a man, but side stepped around him, losing not an ounce of momentum as I flung myself around a corner.

And there they were, Piko on the ground and blood bubbling down his cheek, and Gakupo's foot on his back and blade at his throat.

I looked at his face and saw _that_ smirk there, the smug, satisfied smirk. The smirk he wore before he slit a man's throat, or threw a woman into the dirt, or tortured his terrified apprentices. It was the smirk I thought I would see as I died, as Gakupo plunged his sword's tip into my throat and ripped it apart, while the others stood and watched and waited for my heart to stop beating and for my eyes to glaze over in death.

Piko's eyes were glassy with pain and blood rushed down his cheek in glistening, crimson rivers. He stared forward, seeing nothing, and Yuuma stood behind them, still as a stature, his face drained of colour, eyes wide as moons.

I looked back at Gakupo.

The rage induced by that expression was blinding. Consuming. Overwhelming. In an instant, it was a part of me; it was in my blood, surging in my veins, and it was in my breath, rasping in my throat with every breath of air I sucked in, and it was all I could see and all I could feel. It burned and flared viciously in my chest like a wild beast, screeching and thrashing and screaming for blood.

"_Gakupo!_"

My voice was a whip; an angry, ragged whip laced with hatred, and Gakupo could tell. He'd heard hatred before, even hatred as pure and overpowering as mine, and all it did was amuse him. The amusement glinted in his ugly purple eyes and seeped into his revolting, smug smirk, tugging the corners of his lips ever upwards. His brushed the blade against Piko's neck.

"Oh. You're awake, Len," Gakupo said casually. As though we were talking about the weather. As though I didn't want to rip his head off with my bear hands.

"Get off him." I hissed.

Something dark and angry swirled in Gakupo's eyes. "The boy insulted me. Repeatedly. These insults...they cannot go unpunished!" His voice raised with fierce passion. I could almost see the suffocating aura of his pride and ego, dense and dark, radiating off his skin.

"I don't blood _care_ if he insulted you. _Get. Off._"

Gakupo's smirk was replaced by a snarl. "I don't take orders from you. I can do whatever I please, you fucking cunt. I'll get off the brat when I'm done with him."

I moved forward. I was going to kill him, I knew I was. I was going to wrap my hands around that white, wide neck of his and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until his face was purple as his hair and his eyes were split with red veins and his lips were blue and cold. Gakupo's eyes narrowed and a fiery anger of his own roared into life and he withdrew his sword from Piko's neck and took to pointing it at me.

"Come." He growled. "I _dare you_, fucking brat. I'll cut you to ribbons."

He didn't have to ask me twice.

I lunged and dived past his sword and tried to land a punch, but Gakupo was fast and side-stepped away. His sword flashed, a strip of night sky, and I ducked beneath it and punched him fast and hard in the gut. Gakupo grunted his pain but recovered quickly and was on me in seconds. His sword came down with a shrill shriek and I threw myself backwards and I felt the sword skim over my stomach, but the blow was too shallow and it failed to tear through my uniform -

"_**STOP IMMEDIATELY!**_"

The cry jolted through me like lightning, as though he hadn't shouted but rather slapped me fast across the face. I stumbled backwards, away from Gakupo's inky black sword, and stood, breathing heavily. My shoulder throbbed with pain and sweat trickled down my cheeks. Gakupo was panting, too, and sweat glistened on his brow and the anger was still one him, flaring bright and wild in his eyes, but he, too, was still and didn't attempt to restart the fight.

Kaito was livid and his footsteps were loud and huge as he stormed towards us. He shouldered Yuuma aside like he was nothing and stopped beside Gakupo, giving him a glare so vicious and intense I was surprised when Gakupo's head didn't burst into flames.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" He demanded. His raging blue eyes flickered from Gakupo's face to mine. I had the decency to flush with shame, but Gakupo's face was still twisted with rage.

"The apprentice insulted me. Its my right to -" He began, but Kaito silenced him.

"Piko is _Len's _apprentice, not yours!" He snapped. "If he was yours, I wouldn't have cared, but you know not to infer with a fellow senior -"

"He _isn't _a senior -"

"But he _will be_ on the morn!" Kaito shouted. And then he rounded on me.

"And you...you're never this hot-headed. You think things through, Len, you always have. So what the hell is this?" There was anger in his voice, but there was a lot of confusion and bewilderment, too. "What's wrong with you -"

"What's wrong with _me?_" I growled before I could stop myself.

"Len! You..." He couldn't seem to find the word. He returned the Gakupo with a huff of frustration. "You." He repeated, but addressed Gakupo this time. "Out of my sight. _Now._ Yuuma!" The pink haired man raised his eyes and I was surprised to see guilt and shame there, deeper and truer then mine. It startled me. "Take Piko to Len's room and have his injuries treated." Yuuma obeyed without question. He handled Piko like he was made of glass, gently lifting him in his arms and cradling him almost tenderly against his chest. He glanced at me and I nodded at him and he walked noiselessly down the hallway, Piko limp and unconscious in his arms.

Kaito stared at Gakupo. His purple eyes rose to glare at me for a long, tense moment, and I saw a deep hatred there. I knew it hadn't formed today, that it had been building for the last six years, but its abrupt appearance chilled me all the same. I didn't look away, though, and glared right back. I wondered if he saw the same hate and loathing in my eyes.

In the end, he broke eye contact first and trudged sullenly away. His footsteps echoed hollowly off the wood for a minute or so, and then all was quite and I was alone with Kaito.

I looked at him and the hatred from yesterday began to surface, but it wasn't nearly as intense and I didn't feel the urge to strike him.

"Len," He said in a low voice, "why did you attack Gakupo?"

"He was hurting Piko." I snapped angrily. "Why else? Aside from the fact he's cruel and insane."

"Len...Gakupo is a special case." He said gently. "Let the man be."

"Why do you stand by him?" I demanded suddenly, angrily. "He's the devil incarnate. He murders _children_, for gods sake, you just stand there and let him!" My anger grew stronger, fiercer, in my chest, the beast roaring, clawing at the air, stirring up a storm. "You're just as fucking bad as he is!"

His hand whipped out and pain burned in my cheek. The slap was so strong I staggered back two steps and my lip split. Blood dribbled over my lips and drown my chin and splattered against my chest.

I stared in shock.

"You have forgotten yourself," Kaito said quietly, and because he was quite I knew he was furious with me.

I blinked, then dropped my gaze to the floor.

The anger was dead.

"I...I'm sorry. Please forgive my insolence." I said softly.

Kaito moved forward and put a hand on my shoulder, and then he touched my hand. He pushed something against it and when I brought my hand up to examine it, a white handkerchief stared back at me.

"For your nose." He mumbled.

I mumbled a thank you and dabbed at the stream of blood.

He stood there for a moment, wordless, then he sighed and squeezed my shoulder. "What's wrong, Len? I understand you wanted to protect Piko...but it isn't like you to just suddenly lash out like that...and I saw..." He trailed off and I stiffened. _He saw my hatred. He saw it. _He sighed again. "It doesn't matter. Len, tell me what's wrong."

I swallowed.

Kaito was probably the only person I could truly trust in all of Justice, more then Cul, more then myself of late, but...but how could I entrust him with information that didn't even make sense to me? _Recently, Kaito, I've felt the urge to murder you all. For no apparent reason whatsoever._ How could I tell him that? How could I tell _anyone _that? _Oh! And I've been hearing voices, too. Just so you know._

I forced a smile.

"Nothing." I lied. "I just haven't gotten enough sleep lately."

Kaito stared at me with his deep, deep blue eyes and I knew he could tell I was lying through me teeth. He was processing the information in his mind, trying to decide which action to take and what my lying really meant. Was it a stubborn teenager or something else? _You don't even want to know, Kaito. I'm the one going through this crap and I can't even understand it. What hope would you have?_

"...I see," Kaito said slowly. He released my shoulder and let his arm fall by his side. "The senior ceremony will take place at midday tomorrow...so be sure to sleep tonight. You'll have no duties to attend to in the morning, so just...just relax."

I nodded. "Understood."

Kaito watched me for a moment longer, then nodded and walked away. I stood there long after, my heart hammering in my chest.

* * *

**Over use of some words again...but over all I am pleased with this chapter.**

**Cul may or may not become more of a major character. I'll think about what to do with her.  
**

**Yuuma...I've really given me an awful, cowardly personality in this, haven't I? XD Don't worry...he's redeem himself! (eventually)  
**

**I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes. Hopefully I spelt 'grammar' correctly this time.  
**

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews! :D :D :D :D  
**

**- ravenbynight  
**


	7. Rin III

**RIN - III**

I couldn't move.

I think I was tied down, but I couldn't see anything so I could I know? Black stretched out all around me, some endless void of thick swirling darkness that curled around my limbs and spilled down my throat...but then a great red light erupted off to my side, so bright and sheer it _hurt_, and suddenly flames licked at my flesh. Skin bubbled and fires crackled and my clothes were burning away and my body was on fire. Flames seared down my spine and my eyes bubbled and melted and dribbled down my cheeks and my hair exploded in a shower of red sparks. My skin peeled away and my flesh was cooking and my bones shone crimson and then crumbled away in black ash -

I screamed and screamed and screamed but nothing hurt, nothing at all, I just couldn't understand what was going on. I wished desperately that I could move, that I could run and fight and reach for my gun, my point of safety, my most trusted companion and my only friend in the entire world -

_"Rin? Are you alright?"_

_I blinked and I was lying down in a bed, wrapped in soft woollen blankets. A small hand clasped mine and I found myself staring into the round, sweet face of a boy I knew and yet couldn't remember, a boy that looked like a girl and had hair like molten gold and long heavy bangs that cast heavy shadows over his eyes. _

_He wasn't quite smiling, but he wasn't frowning, either. It was a confused and concerned pout, the worried stare of a little boy, and I hated seeing that on his face so I grinned and wriggled over and kissed his nose. That made him blush, and then he squeaked in alarm when I bit down on his skin. He lurched away and I giggled hysterically, falling backwards and rolling across the bed as he wiped vigorously at his nose with his sleeve._

_"Hey!" He exclaimed. Though I couldn't see his eyes, I somehow knew they were sparkling with tears of embarrassment. The image only made me laugh harder._

_"You're so mean, Rin!"_

_I looked up to laugh at him some more, but suddenly he was gone and instead a tall man stood in front of me, a man with thick blonde hair that hid one side of his face and the one visible eye was like a chip of ice, bright and blazing, and he was dressed in black and red and held a black sword in his hand._

_Metal screamed and pain exploded in my chest and petals of red fluttered through the darkness. Blindingly bright against the stark black background. Ice burst from the wound and crept across my skin, crackling and glittering and cold as death itself, stabbing through my skin and turning my blood blue, and the wicked red oozed out of my eye and left it as blue and brilliant as his own._

_He smiled. _

_It was warm and sweet and made me smile in return._

_I knew him from somewhere, but I couldn't quite remember._

_"Much better." He said approvingly._

/

My eyes fluttered open, and the world was a mass of smudged colours and blinking white lights. The abrupt transition between utter darkness fractured with fire and fierce light startled my eyes into pain and I immediately shut them again. I didn't dare open them again until the sharp, throbbing pain in the back of my skull receded, and when I did, everything was still a nauseating blur. I waited and waited, staring out at the multi-coloured nothingness, until it all faded away and was sucked back into its original shapes.

I found myself staring at a ceiling of smooth wooden planks all polished to perfection, glowing a warm golden-brown. As my senses slowly returned, I become aware of a constant beeping sound, and the thin, white plastic-thread blankets that encased my sleeping figure. They felt like wool, were soft and warm like wool, but they were plastic. It was all just a pleasing illusion. My eyes rolled to one side and I saw a stack of books and papers, some filled with hastily written scribbles, others blank and white, some with little pictures drawn on the corners. One book lay open, the pages filled with small black writing from a language I didn't recognize. Beyond those was a long wooden desk, on which more paper work was piled and a single picture frame stood empty and alone. There was a small triangle of white in the far left corner.

I twitched my fingers, and felt pain flash down my arm. It was a faint pain, small but sharp, and it made me grimace in annoyance. I glanced down and saw a tube stabbed into my skin; pale green liquid moved through the transparent body, and it made a faint bubbling sound. The tube twisted up into air, where it connected to a see-through bag filled to bursting with the strange green water. _My medicine, _I realised, with a small jolt.

A white woman moved past me, soft as a whisper; her snowy hair was stiff and unmoving, and the neon strips at her wrists and waist glowed an eerie grey-green. She was holding something, a clip board, maybe, and never seemed more then three paces away from the beeping monitor that carefully recorded every flutter of my heart. Her skin was deathly pale, almost grey, and her eyes were dirty chips of ice.

I didn't want to speak to her. White women were servants, drone-like in their mindlessness, and couldn't really think for themselves. They were set with a specific task to complete, a cabinet to file or a body to clean or a broken girl to fix, and they could complete that task flawlessly, but try to make them do anything else, and they stuttered and fumbled in confusion and couldn't even finish a sentence. I hated them for that. They were so bloody efficient, so quick, but so _stupid._ They weren't practical at all, and being practical is what kept me alive. I hated that they replaced real, practical people. But it only bothered me when I was in the same room as one. Beyond that, I didn't really give a shit about other people.

I rolled my good eye away from the ghostly creature and returned my attention to my body. It took me a few moments of staring, straining my trembling gaze, but I soon realised I was naked. My skin was milky white and smooth like silk, but also flushed here and there, round rosy circles like pale rose petals. A soft brown scar zig-zagged across my stomach and twisted up my torso, splintering into four jagged, angry spikes as they arched over the ridge of my right breast. It was a reminder of a woman I'd rather forget, a violent and unpredictable creature that couldn't be trusted. I shifted my head slightly, and felt long strands of golden hair brush gently against the white curve of my neck. My hair was down and spilled around me like a halo of liquid sunlight.

I might have looked beautiful, if it wasn't for the vicious scar that cracked my face, but at least the gaping socket where my eye once lived was covered with a curtain of gold and old bandages.

A flicker of movement, and I heard the white woman's soft breathing, tiny, gasping sounds that seemed to rattle through her torso and shiver up her throat. I blinked and looked, and there she was, gazing down at me with eyes like foggy glass. Alarm flashed across her face, and I let out a bitter chuckle that quickly transformed into a series of harsh coughs, and suddenly it was my chest that was rattling and shivering. Predictably, the white woman was at a loss. She didn't know what to do, now that I was awake and coughing and my red eye was alive with flames of distrust. After a moment, the coughing subsided, and my bloody gaze flickered to her face.

"Go tell someone I'm awake," I commanded hoarsely, weakly, but apparently I was still a terrifying image despite the situation, because she turned and fled like the devil was on her tail, leaving heavy footsteps to echo hollowly through the room. She hastily pushed her fingers against the wall and it shuddered, the colours convulsing, and then it was sucked up into the floorboards and the silvery sheen of the hallway was revealed. A huge, bulky clone stood beside the door, dressed in black and a dim-witted expression. Then the wall spilled back into place and the brilliantly bright world of sheer silver was replaced by a dull cream wall.

I stared at the spot where she vanished for a few minutes, then tore my gaze away and stared at the ceiling. I was alone now, with nothing but my thoughts for company, and I didn't want to go there. There was a monster waiting in the deep darkness of my memories, the forgotten past I never wanted to touch. And even if I tried, as I had in my time at Hatsune Inc., all I found was a foggy wall, a shadowy barrier that separated my present self from the younger and sweeter version that lived in the past, in a time when I didn't have to kill on command and do drugs to keep my sanity.

Thinking of my medicine made me look sideways. The tube vanished into my arm and bubbled quietly. The fluid sparkled and shimmered like polished diamonds, bright like glitter as it surged through the tube and thundered through my veins. I could feel it inside me, infusing with my blood, moving through my whole body. There was no where it didn't touch, couldn't touch -

_Oi._

_A man stared down at me, a tall man with hair like spun gold and a hard, handsome features. One eye glared back at me, sharp and blue as the sky and speckled with glittering shards gold and grey and smears of white. A shard of dirty ice, glinting in the sun's light._

_But what I noticed most was the scar._

_Pale brown tinged red._

_Jagged around the edges; a vicious and violent slash._

Terror swelled in my chest and in an instant consumed me, devouring my whole being, and suddenly all I could think and feel was pure and animalistic fear. My hand lashed out and ripped the tube from my arm and blood splattered against the golden-brown floorboards and the tube squealed wetly and the fluids dribbled over my fingers and splattered against the floor. Red rivers trailed down my arm and speckled the sheets scarlet. I was on my feet and moving in moments, but then the world spun in a contortion of colours and suddenly I was on my knees, my head in my hands, and I was trembling uncontrollably and I was so cold and so confused and my whole right side was smarting with pain -

Gentle fingers touched my naked shoulder, and my head snapped up. Turquoise filled my vision; narrow blue-green eyes framed in blue-green glasses, thick blue-green hair strung back in a glossy pony-tail that spilt in two and cascaded down her back in glistening waves. A smile touched her pale pink lips, and then her fingers brushed my cheek and I realised I was crying.

"What's wrong, Rin?" My master asked gently, and she stroked my cheek slowly, rhythmically. My heart clenched and I blinked and all of a sudden there was a blonde woman leaning over me, running her slender fingers through my hair, curling yellow strands around her pinky, and I could hear her laughing, a silver, tinkling sound that filled my chest with warmth. Her hair was impossibly long and the same electric gold shade as mine, but I couldn't see her eyes because her bangs were too long and wide and cast shadows too strong.

_"What's wrong, Rin?"_

Sobbing, I collapsed.

/

I woke up later in the same room, with my master standing over me, and flashes of a golden-haired man haunting my dreams.

"Hello again." She said sweetly. Her hair was down now, flowing unhindered over her shoulder, as she lounged back lazily in a comfy looking chair of dark green pillows ringed in blue frills. She was wearing a tight-fitting black dress that split down the side and revealed a firm, creamy thigh, wrapped tightly in black fishnet stockings, and huge lowly around her neck, so the gentle rise of her left breast shone whitely in the candlelight. Her trademark glasses were nowhere to be seen. "Enjoy your sleep?"

I didn't answer. I didn't have the strength. I felt drained, empty, and my head was throbbing painfully in time with my weak heartbeat. I tried to think, to form words, but my mind was fogged and broken. Dimly, I could hear the quiet gurgling of water as it streamed down the tube and into my body, and the faint beeping of a heart-monitoring machine. I couldn't tell whether I was naked or not, but I wasn't cold at all; rather, I felt pleasantly warm, as though snuggled up in an invisible woolen blanket.

Lady Hatsune Miku laughed silkily. It normally made my skin crawl, but today I was too weak to react. "You'll feel better soon, my dear. You threw quite the fit earlier. Do you remember any of it?"

I squeezed my eye shut and thought, thought hard, waded blindly through the grey fog of my memories, and finally found what I was looking for. I remembered scrambling off my bed and tearing the tube away and then crying hysterically, but I couldn't recall why. I nodded stiffly.

"Good, good." My master purred. "You won't be doing that again, now will you?" I shook my head. There was no real question in my master's voice. It was a command coated in honey, but I could still sense the daggers, feel the pressure on my chains. "Good. Now, listen carefully. You were injured in a battle recently. You hit your head pretty hard, so we had to work on her brain a little. You won't remember any of it. Trying will probably cause you pain, so leave it alone." That wouldn't be difficult. I was used to letting memories fade and die. "You need to get better as quickly as possible. I sent you off to murder Kaai Yuki, which you did beautifully, but you lost if afterwards and killed a few people. Authorities arrived, you got hurt, I fixed you. Now Justice has Hiyama Kiyoteru under their protection." She scoffed and rearranged herself on the chair, a bitter smirk cracking her mask of sweetness. "That Kaito probably believes he was the victim in this whole thing, despite being involved with the English Mafia." She scoffed again. "Foolish man. Anyone who is done wrong by me automatically becomes a victim as pure as a saint."

Kaito...Kaito was the Commander of Justice. A senior, wearing black and red, if I remembered correctly. Tall man, broad shoulders, with a shock of dark blue hair. Apparently natural, though I found it hard to believe.

My master wasn't finished. She continued, speaking in her strong, confident voice. "Hiyama has not escaped me. Running to Justice like a coward only makes me want to kill him more, you see? So, we must double our efforts. I want you to kill him for me. However, I can't just drop you off and pick you up later. It won't be that simple this time. We need to plan the assassination carefully. You'll need to train with Gumi."

My heart clenched, and the machine bleeped alarmingly. _Gumi. _I could see her in my mind's eye - tall for a woman, with hair the colour of dusty emeralds and eyes that glinted and glittered like green ebony; a strong build, sharp features, broad shoulders, and smooth, slight hips. She wasn't overly feminine in any respect, but the curve of her pink lips and the light bending between her long lashes and her natural, cat-like grace made up for what she lacked in a bodily sense. Her expression was vacant, a stare of cold indifference, as always. The scar on my chest prickled painfully, and my headache pulsed and screamed. Gumi and I had never seen eye to eye, and that wasn't just because she towered over me like a slender giant. She was coldly cruel and scarcely spoke a word and moved through the facility like a green-tinted ghost; and when she did speak, her voice was a low whisper, a soft, harsh hiss that set the skin crawling.

She was one of the coloured, like me. Only, while I was bloody red and boiling gold, she was jade green and ghostly grey.

Gumi terrified me. I would never admit it aloud, never even hint to it, but just being in the same room with her made my heart flutter uncertainly, caused sweat to build and shiver between my brows. My fingers twitched in thinly veiled anxiety, and I nibbled nervously at my lip, all the while avoiding her stony stare, the piercing green gaze that could cut through your clothes and bury into your flesh and just keep digging and digging and digging until it was your soul she saw, stretched out and naked and vulnerable, with all your darkest and deepest secrets oozing out in the open like spilled blood.

I didn't want to train with her. It was like training with death itself. But there was no way I could voice my concerns aloud - Lady Hatsune would giggle her sweet giggle and tap my nose playfully and tell me to stop being so silly, because it was her order and if I disobeyed her order she'd strip me naked and tie me down and have my back whipped red raw. Or worse, she wouldn't give me my medicine. Then the spiders would materialize out of nothing and sweep across my flesh, crawling, hissing, biting, and I would scream and thrash and cry for hours and hours until I was begging for mercy, for release. I was her property, her raven draped in red silk, and I had no right to object to her commands.

So I just nodded, and didn't say a word.

My master smiled approvingly. She stood and straightened her dress, delicately smoothing it out, pressing it fast against her flesh so the round, curving outline of her thighs was briefly visible. She turned as if to leave, then paused and let out a little gasp as something popped into her mind. "Oh! I almost forgot." She spun back around, black silk fluttering. "As of tomorrow, Justice will have themselves a new senior member. I believe he'll be trouble in the future, so while we're killing Hiyama, I might have you slaughter him as well." She paused, turquoise eyes steely in thought. "You've met him before," She continued carefully. "A good looking boy. Blonde hair, blue eyes. He tried to kill you."

_Blonde hair, blue eyes._

My heart thundered, and a dream I thought I'd forgot surged back to the surface, and a cold shudder ripped through me as the blade swung down with a metallic shriek and blood spilled between my fingers and I saw the red leaking out of my eye and rolling down my cheeks in a sinister mockery of tears. I remembered my eye blazing bright blue, like a polished sapphire, and the man smiling in satisfied approval. _"Much better." _

But that had only been a dream. I couldn't remember meeting him, or even seeing him before. But his appearance made my eye twitch and the back of my skull began to throb, and I closed my eye and tried hard to remember. It felt desperately important, more important then anything. I needed to remember -

"Ah!" I gasped, more in surprise then in pain, as a sudden, fiery sting shot down my spine. The memories that had been so close only moments ago suddenly fell away and crumbled into pieces, dissolved into the shadowy recesses of my sub-consciousness, in a place where I couldn't reach them.

Lady Hatsune smiled.

"Well, that was just food for thought. Now," She said sweetly and turned on heel. I heard a short clapping sound and noticed she was wearing high-heels that added an extra two inches to her modest height, and the shoes were smooth and shiny and as black as her dress. "I'll be heading off. I have a party to attend." I blinked. I didn't know what a _party _was, but, going by my master's sleek, sexy dress, I assumed it was something fancy, the sort of thing a lowly servant like myself could never attend. A place for gods and goddesses, who will crush their enemies without a second of hesitation, and burn their homes to the ground for good measure. "See you in a little while. Sleep and get better, okay, darling~?" She wriggled her fingers over her shoulder, grinning cheekily, and then she strode out the door and disappeared into the bright silver hall. The empty space shuddered and twisted, and then the floor leapt out and up and abruptly I was staring at a wall of dirty cream.

I closed my eyes.

I could feel the base of my skull pulsing. My blood was chilled, moving sluggishly through my veins. The machine's endless bleeping was almost sad in a way, a mournful continuation of something that should have stopped long ago. The scars jerking and zig-zagged over my stomach prickled in that uncomfortable way, but the jagged slice that arched over my nose and almost split my face was strangely numb. In the pale darkness brought forth by closed eyes, muffled colours, blotches of dark brown and smeared specks of muted grey, swirled across my vision.

I spent a lot of time just lying there, thinking about the blonde haired man with his piercing blue gaze, about my dreams, about my scar. My reality felt shaken. There was a truth hiding somewhere inside me, somewhere dark and lonely and unexplored, that I couldn't reach. Or wouldn't reach. The black abyss where the road suddenly crumbled away and collapsed into nothingness; a place where no matter how long or how viciously I searched, screaming for answers, clawing desperately through the suffocating _nothing_, all I found was a sharp stab of pain exploding in my skull before shrieking down my spine and making my facial scar burn.

I considering opening my eyes and glancing at the medicine again, but I didn't want to risk it. The terror from before wasn't completely gone; it was just smouldering somewhere in my chest, waiting for the opportunity to lunge and destroy me. Instead, I snuggled closer into the pillow and willed for sleep to take me.

I didn't often pray, because I didn't believe in any deity - I'd seen too much shit to believe in something like that - but tonight, I didn't really care. I wanted a good night's sleep, one that wasn't drenched in painful, half-remembered memories; a slumber where I wasn't ripped apart by hungry flames or black steel, where I wasn't forced to endure the icy stare of the blonde man I couldn't quite remember. So, my eye still squeezed shut, I let the little pray slip between my lips; a soft, half-hearted murmur, barely audible above the heart monitor's never ending beeping, or even the gentle drum-beat of my heart.

Don't know if it was luck or chance or really some sort of divine intervention, but my wish was granted. I slipped into a deep, dark slumber, and no sword-wielding boys or dry grasses whispering in a stale country wind rose up to meet me.

* * *

**Hi.**

**Yeah.**

**New chapter.  
**

**What? What? What do you mean its been, like, three months since I last updated and I've been dead during all that time? That I should be ashamed for suddenly disappearing all that time without notice and leaving you all hanging like a bitch?**

**Well.  
**

***collapses onto her knees* I'm so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry! ;_; I really am. I didn't mean to vanish like that. I feel really bad about it. The writer's block pretty much destroyed me. I found myself unable to draw anything good, either, so that only made me worse. I'm so sorry.  
**

**In this chapter, Rin's memory goes through some hard yards. She doesn't remember the fight with Len in the first couple of chapters (Which wasn't the confrontation from the actual song, either. That is yet to come and will be more important.), nor does she remember seeing the blonde-haired woman in the place of Miku. She's really confused about all this. Then Miku drops the train-with-Gumi bomb shell, which doesn't help at all.  
**

**So, yeah. Gumi appearance. Saw her in one of Suzunosuke's Karakuri Burst pictures and thought_ YES._  
**

**On a side note, I got kittens on the weekend. A grey ball of crazy named Tinker Bell and the dopiest tabby on earth named Tiger Lily. They are really, really cute.  
**

**Again, I'm really sorry. Next chapters are gonna be kinda slow, but the action will start up again, when Rin is sent after Hiyama-san.  
**

**I apologize for any grammar mistakes.  
**

**Thank you so much for reading. I won't ask you to review.  
**

**- ravenbvnight  
**


	8. Len IV

**LEN – IV**

The ceremony was traditional to the bone. None of the seniors wore their stock-standard uniforms of black wool and leather, of red ties and black gloves and black hats. The women wore kimonos – traditional dresses, a throw back to a time without technology, or technology as we know it - of flowing vibrant colours; with butterflies, black as night and streaked with blinding specks of light, fluttering amongst dancing cherry blossom petals, or across a huge orange moon, or hovering above seemingly tranquil waters teeming with orange and black koi fish. The men wore kimono of a much paler, plainer stock; they bore the symbols of ancient houses, or a some embroidery here and there amongst dull browns, blues and greens. It was their swords that were decorated, studded with diamonds or rubies or emeralds, the guards crafted into the roaring head of a lion, or a red-eyed dragon breathing fire.

I was the only one wearing my uniform. My hands were bare, my weapon gone, my left eye socket hidden beneath thick locks of gold hair. Nothing could hide the pale-red scar that sliced across my nose and speared down my cheek.

The hall was small and crafted from wood and stone. The sun was up outside, but here it was dark as night, or would have been if it wasn't for the candles; they hung from the walls, seven in total, releasing a warm, flickering orange light that sent shadows dancing across the walls in all different directions. The light was dizzying and played tricks on the eyes; I couldn't tell the shape or size of anything.

Lord Commander Kaito approached me with firm steps. The sound echoed through the small hall and resonated through me like a scream. My nerves were fried and I wanted badly to flex my fingers, but I had long learned how to school my expression and control my impulses. I stood with my eyes lowered respectfully, and my face was blank, void of emotion.

When he spoke, his voice was low and intense and bounced from wall to wall.

"Len...kneel before your mentor."

I did as I was told. I didn't look at his face, didn't search for any doubts or discomforts that may have lingered from our last conversation. We hadn't spoken since then; the space between us was too awkward, because all we could remember was the irrational hatred blazing in my eyes and the sharp, sudden pain of his hand cracking against my cheek.

His sword hissed faintly as it was drawn from its scabbard.

"Do you pledge your allegiance to Justice? To destroying scum, and bringing forth the light?"

"I do."

An automatic response.

"Do you swear to lead your comrades with a steady, just heart?"

"I do."

More robotic words.

"Do you swear to respect your new position as a senior officer of Justice, to never abuse your new power?"

"I do."

It came so easily now. I'd already done it twice over; for my apprenticeship and becoming a member.

"Do you swear to protect women and children, the young and the old? To treat all justly despite their status and their pasts?"

"I do."

It was almost laughable.

"Then I decree you a member of the senior officers of Justice." The Commander's sword touched my left shoulder, then my right, and the other seniors murmured words in deep, droning voices, words I couldn't understand, in a tongue long forgotten by all except the ancient organisation of Justice. Their voices numbed me to my core, but when Kaito ordered I stand, I did it easily. He sheathed his sword and Meiko glided froward, wearing a kimono of crimson silk and black moons and butterflies. She handed Kaito a black uniform, with black gloves and hat sitting on top, and he in turn handed it to me.

"Wear this with pride and honour." He told me.

I nodded.

I couldn't tell whether his words were as robotic and meaningless as my own.

He gave me my new sword, then. It was a long blade of black steel, but if I looked closer I saw dark crimson sheets folded and refolded into the dark blade. The queer metal caused the light to bend and split and scatter, giving it the look of mist, or a strip of night ripped from the sky. It was a breathtaking thing.

Then the ceremony was over, and I was so relieved I could've jumped for joy.

I wanted to get away as fast as I could, to go visit Piko in hospital as he recovered from the brutal beating he suffered at the hands of Gakupo. But I couldn't leave until Kaito did – another stupid tradition that made no sense to me – and he wasn't moving at all. Meiko flicked my shoulder and grinned her huge, impish grin before sweeping out the door, the candle flame leaping in the winds her swift movements stirred. Luka reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck; her arms were slender and her grip was gentle, motherly in her affection, and I couldn't help the blush that crept across my cheeks. She tapped my nose playfully, smiling sweetly, and then she left, hurrying after Meiko, who was already undoing the elaborate knots that held back her short shock of bronze hair. Gakupo glanced at me once; his purple eyes smouldered with resentment, and he made little effort to disguise his annoyance. He didn't want to be here congratulating me on an achievement he clearly thought I didn't deserve. I didn't flinch, but I was too weary, too tired, to stare him down. I drew my gaze away, didn't watch as he slunk past me, his footsteps heavy and long.

I turned to Kaito, and he stared at me. The memory of his cold anger, the sudden explosion of pain as his gloved hand met my flesh, sent a quiet shiver ripping down my spine. And then there was my own anger, the groundless rage that had made me want to bash his head against the earth, to kick and punch and slash out with my sword until he was nothing more then a bloodied pile of savaged flesh. The thought chilled my blood, lacing it with ice. Kaito hadn't really meant to hurt me – I had stepped out of line, accused him of being something he wasn't – and I hadn't actually attempted to hurt him, but I still felt uncomfortable being in the same room with him. The awkward atmosphere was suffocating, oppressive in an almost physical way, and it made me want to look down and just walk away.

"Congratulations." Kaito said evenly, after what felt like a life time of silence.

"Thank you." I replied coolly. It might have been a good time to smile, but I couldn't summon the energy.

"How do you like the sword?" Kaito inquired after a moment, his blue gaze dropping to the length of black steel I held carefully in one hand. I let my gaze drop to the ebony blade and my lips twitched with the desire to grin. Having this sword made that whole stupid ceremony, made all these years of training and hardship and suffering, worth sitting through.

"Its nice." I mumbled. I wasn't sure how to properly express my joy over possessing and my love of this sword. Not that I wanted to. I'd never been the sort of person to express my emotions, even to those I loved; that sort of mindless, open display of emotion was a right reserved for light-hearted children and careless nobles who arrogantly believed that they were untouchable.

Kaito smiled wearily. "Is that all you can think of to say?"

I shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"

That made him think. His expression shifted into something thoughtful. "I'm not sure," he admitted, and some of that old humour slipped into his smile. The sight warmed me and my guard dropped slightly and I allowed myself a brief chuckle. After that, silence fell, and for a moment all Kaito did was stare at me with that fierce blue gaze of his, and my heart fluttered. I could stare Gakupo's hateful glare down, could handle Meiko's aggressive shoves and Luka's startling shift from warm and motherly to cold and unfriendly, but Kaito's stern but gentle gaze always wore away my defences.

I looked at my feet.

"I'm sorry, you know." He said at last. "About slapping you."

I shrugged again. Hearing him say that made me feel like a spoiled child. "It's fine. I stepped out of line."

Something strange flickered across his expression, but it didn't linger long enough for me to analyse it.

"Hiyama Kiyoteru is yours." He said suddenly. "I've assigned him to you. You'll be in charge of the investigation surrounding his involvement with the Mafia and Hatsune Inc. You decide whether or not protection is necessary." He paused momentarily. "You may use as many men, as many of Justice's resources, as you desire."

I didn't let my shock show. I knew Kaito had a great deal of faith in my abilities as a swordsmen and as a negotiator, but given my state of mind recently, I would never have thought he'd give me an assignment as large and important as this. Hiyama Kiyoteru was somehow linked to the elusive and coldly sadistic Hatsune Miku, noblewoman and university graduate and head of a multi-billion dollar company that essentially ran the country. His daughter had been murdered, his town ripped to shreds in a whirl wind of hungry red-orange flames, his friends slaughtered with merciless cruelty, because he pushed one too many buttons. Investigating him could, theoretically, get us closer to the inner workings of Hatsune Inc.

But then, it was just a theory. Perhaps Kaito knew Hiyama Kiyoteru was an unimportant as an ant to Hatsune Miku. Perhaps he knew that Hatsune Inc. was too well protected and led by a woman too intelligent to be carelessly involved in something as scandalous and devastating as the murder of hundreds of innocent lives. While no-one wealthy or important in Voca cared about those who lived beyond their glittering golden wall, buyers across the sea did; knowledge that Hatsune Miku was somehow involved in the heartless, blood-thirsty massacre would be crippling for sales. Perhaps Kaito knew that any investigation I launched would go no where and I'd just end up dropping the whole matter and sweeping it in under the mat.

Then again, Kaito knew me pretty well.

He probably knew what I would do with this opportunity.

"Alright," I said evenly. "Thank you."

Kaito rolled his broad shoulders. "Don't thank me, kid. You'll be up to your ears in paperwork by the end of this week."

Whatever problems we had, whatever conflicting emotions were churning inside me, I couldn't help but laugh.

\\\

Little Piko and Cul made an odd pair. Their colour schemes contrasted sharply, brightly; a tiny boy, drenched in white, and a short, curving female, bleeding striking scarlet. Piko was snuggled up in a hospital bed, wrapped in thick, warm white blankets that only made his small frame seem that much tinier. Bandages hugged his forehead, messing his silvery white locks, and curled tightly about his thin torso. His eyes were closed and his breath was soft and deep. Cul stood beside him, scribbling down her observations on a wooden clip board, clad in her blazing scarlet scrubs. Her bloody red hair was strung back in a tight pony-tail that cascaded down her back in a raging waterfall of unbrushed knots and curls. Her round red eyes were tired, dulled, but when she looked up and saw me they brightened.

I could've sworn I knew how to swallow, but all of a sudden my throat was dry as a desert. The memory of wanting to hurt her, to crush her beautiful face into nothing, all because of that stupid uniform, rushed back in vivid clarity and almost choked me. I could feel the murderous intent smouldering deep in my chest, but it was distant, detached from me, not like before, when it pulsed in my veins and filled me up, a fiery storm of fierce hatred.

"Hey there, Lenny." She said. Her voice was weak with exhaustion.

I walked up to Piko's bed and offered her a small smile. "Hey," I murmured. "You alright? You look pretty tired."

She shrugged absently. "Yeah, but, seriously, who isn't? Us nurses are up twenty eight hours a day."

"Isn't Haku supposed to relieve you?"

"She's exhausted too. That burning in Second Wind gave us about two hundred dying men to treat." The memories brought a darkness to her expression that didn't suit her bubbly personality. The urge to reach out and stroke her cheek swelled in my chest, but suddenly I didn't trust myself. The angry monster was in me somewhere, waiting for the chance to lunge. Cul sighed heavily. "I'm so glad you weren't badly hurt."

I scratched my neck. "Me, too."

She laughed softly.

"Ah, so," I began. "how's Piko?"

"Stable." She replied. "He's got a few broken ribs and some nasty cuts on his face and a small amount of internal bleeding, but he'll live. I was surprised. He's tougher then he looks."

"Yeah." I smiled. "He is."

Silence fell, and Cul looked at me and I looked at Cul. I wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came to mind. Cul's smooth pink lips parted and for a moment it seemed she was going to speak, but then the man in the next bed began moaning in agony, jerking up in his bed and tugging violently at the restraints that held him down. Cul immediately switched to work mode and sprinted to his side as another three nurses melted out of the shadows and reached out to assist.

I watched her work for a moment, listening in awed silence as she barked commands and fiddled with tubes and called for some sort of chemical I could never repeat, then glanced down at Piko. He was sleeping soundly; he looked so peaceful, so calm. I brushed some stray locks out of his eyes.

Then I turned and strode out of the hospital.

\\\

Compared to the dungeons built beneath the Justice compound, the cells in Black Sword Tower were luxurious. They were certainly larger, though not nearly as big as a senior's room, and more affectionately furnished; a soft bed of warm brown sheets; a small black television set in one shadowy corner; two narrow, rectangular skylights allowing golden sunlight it spill through and bathe the room in that warm, gold glow; a book shelf hugging the left wall, filled to bursting with books in all sorts of languages and on all sorts of subjects; a soft cream carpet that tickled your toes if you choose to abandon your shoes. If you ignored the great, heavy iron door that stood in place of a flimsy wooden one and the black iron bars that barred escape through the skylights, you could easily forget the room was in fact a cell.

When I entered, Hiyama Kiyoteru was folded up on the bed. His knees were beneath his chin and his arms wound tightly around his legs. A book lay open near his feet, but he appeared to have abandoned it long ago. There was no gleam or shine of life in his eyes or face; there was a film of misery to all his movements, a sort of cold indifference to himself and everything that only grief cause could.

Still, Hiyama was a polite man. When he heard the iron door creaking as it swung inwards, heard my boots clapping against the carpet and the guards murmuring their respects as I moved past them, he looked up and blinked and refocused his large brown eyes. He managed a small, twisted smile.

"Hello." He said softly. "What can I do you, sir?"

It felt somewhat strange to be addressed as _sir _by a man who was clearly much older then me. "The _sir _isn't necessary, Hiyama-san. Please just call me Len."

Hiyama stared. He stared and he stared, and then realisation flashed brightly in his eyes and he jerked into a more alert sitting position, almost leaping onto his feet. "You!" He gasped, as the iron door moaned and then shut with a small _click_ of sound. "From the fire..."

"Yeah. Its good to see you again. How are you holding up?"

Hiyama blinked, stared some more, then slumped back down against the bed. All of a sudden he looked drained, exhausted; deep lines cut through his pasty skin and I could see purple bags hanging heavily beneath his eyes. In my company, the company of the boy who told him his precious daughter was dead, who had stroked his back and held his shoulder as he sobbed and screamed, he allowed his grief to show. The room was suddenly awash in invisible tears.

"My daughter is dead," he said bitterly, quietly, in response to my carelessly spoken question. "How would you feel?"

I swallowed and dropped my gaze slightly. "Sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Hiyama sighed. "Its fine, I suppose. What is it you wanted?"

I straightened. Finally, I could get down to what I came here to do. "Hiyama-san, you were involved with the English Mafia, right? When you couldn't repay your debt to them, you borrowed from Hatsune Industries and ended up unable to repay her?"

Hiyama nodded glumly. "I wish I never had." He whispered. "I wish I'd just gotten a third job or even a forth job, or something like that, instead of going to them."

"Them?"

"A man named Tonio and his girlfriend, Prim. I was running low on money. If I couldn't pay the school fees, Yuki would have to drop out. I couldn't allow that. Education was her only way out of the Second Wing. So I went and saw them. There were rumours they were somehow connected to the mafia. I thought, if I made them some sort of deal, if I begged and pleaded, then maybe I would get the money I needed to keep Yuki in school." His smile was bitter and dark with guilt. "I managed to keep her in it, for a short time."

I didn't want to make him rummage through the painful memories of the event that caused his daughter's murder, but I needed the information. "What did they look like and where were they?"

"On the very edge, right up again the Wall, in a place called Rose's Hollow." Hiyama replied. "It's named after a girl who died there. They live in slums, but they seemed very happy to be there. They didn't seem to think they would be staying long. Tonio isn't a tall man; he's got short black hair and squinty grey eyes. He isn't all that good looking. Prim's different. She's gorgeous, the type of girl you have to look at twice just to make sure she's really there. Lots of thick blonde hair and tanned skin. Green eyes."

"Alright. Hiyama-san, did you ever meet Hatsune Miku in person?"

He shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. All I ever saw were clones and a green-haired woman. She always gave me this weird shot, though, so I could never remember her face afterwards. Just how tall she was."

Well, this was new. A tall, green-haired woman; I'd never heard of someone like that working for Hatsune Miku. All this time, I'd been under the impression she alone had green hair. "This green-haired woman, did she give you the money?"

"Yes. I both enjoyed and dreaded seeing her. She never spoke or blinked. Just handed me the money and then ushered me away without a single word."

What a disturbing woman.

"Where did you meet?"

Hiyama blinked guiltily. "I'm not sure. A clone would arrive at my house with someone and they would blindfold me and load me into a hovercraft. They led me inside the meeting place with it still on and only took it off when I was seated. They did the same thing when taking me home."

"What did it look like?"

"Big silver room. All shiny metal."

_Silver...? _There were no places like that in the Second Wing. It was too poor and run down a neighbourhood to afford huge glistening silver barracks; those sorts of eye-dazzling luxuries were reserved for the rich and the powerful, people who had enough money and lacked enough sense to want that sorts of uselessly beautiful building. Had he been smuggled into the First Wing? It would have been easy enough. No guard could question a Hatsune Inc. hovercraft soaring overhead. Though, I couldn't understand why. What was the point?

What was Hatsune Miku planning?

"Last question." I said, and Hiyama's body physically loosened in relief. "Did you ever see a blonde, red-eyed woman with a scar on her cheek? A woman named Red Rose." The name sounded wrong, somehow incorrect as it rolled off my tongue, though I knew it was her title.

Hiyama, for the first time, seemed genuinely confused by my question. "What...? No, I've never seen anyone like that. Is she connected to my daughter's death?"

I smiled politely and tapped my fist against the iron door, three evenly spaced knocks, and the lock groaned and shuddered and then the door was opening again.

"Thank you for your time. I'll come back and discuss the charges against you later."

Before Hiyama Kiyoteru could so much was lift in a finger in protest, I strode out into the dark corridor and the iron door shut with a muffled _thud_. The hallway was dimly lit and black as the rest of the building; the pair of guards standing either side the prisoner's door, looking for the world like lifeless statues clad in black and blue, seemed almost a part of the shadows. They bowed their heads respectfully, and I nodded in acknowledgement, though it wasn't required of me. I started down the hall, thoughts buzzing in my brain, without really thinking about where I was going.

I hadn't expected Hiyama to know Red Rose. She was either too important or considered unnecessary in such exchanges.

_So, I'll have to look somewhere else._

Kaito must have known this is what I would do. He saw it in my eyes, or maybe knew something I didn't, something that made my interest in Red Rose obvious. I needed to know. I needed to know about it all – Hatsune Inc., the reason for my hatred of a Justice uniform, the strange, fleeting memories that shivered through my sub-consciousness when Red Rose was around, screaming and laughing and crying, blood dripping through her fingers like stolen petals of red.

"_Are you stupid?"_

I needed to know.

"_Its made of fireflies!"_

I needed to know._  
_

* * *

**Super-quick update. :D**

**Yeah, no much happens in this chapter, as warned in the last author's notes, but Len's investigating Red Rose now, so they'll definately meet again. Managed to squeeze in some Cul-Len in here as well. Still not sure what I'm doing with his chick.**

**Next chapter, I'll be posting an omake after the author's note, based on a picture I want to draw.  
**

**I apologize for any grammar mistakes.  
**

**Thanks for reading.  
**

**- ravenbynight  
**


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